lJ(^^JTn''^T^TlWnlt,^v<•KJllUl Jfti^m n 






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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 



UNITED STATES OiNlMERICA. 



Youthful Days 



OTHER POEMS 



R. B. McEACHERN. 






MARSHALL, TEXAS: 

JRNNINGS BROS., PRINTERS, BLANK BOOK MAKERS AND STATIONERS. 



fc 



II:TX5E2r. 



Acrostic 79^' 

A Drt'ftm I7r! 

A Letter in Verse 139 

Aiice 128 

An Epistle to Parents 153 

Angel Among the Flowers 78 

An Inventory: or the Family with Whom I Boarded 96 

Apostrophe to Music 44 

A Ramble 169 

A Serenade -151 

A Sermon in Verse.- 180 

As Fell the Tree 41 

Association 116 

A Tribute of Respect 125 

A Veteran of tha Cross 164 

Ballad of Love 40 

Bid Me Good-Night 48 

Blindness 33 

Burial 123 

Bush's Bear .......>... 89 

By-Gone Hours 17.2 

Called to Rest ' 99 

Change 176 

Charley and His Little Neighbors 68 

City of the Great High Priest 31 

Dedication 3 

Despair 140 

Drifting Away 156 

Echoes from the Harp of Isaiah 54 

Emma 94 

Faith, Hope and Charity 65 

Fallen Aslcpp 157 

Farewell to Tyler 37 

Fort Hudson 116 

George Neely 69 

He is Gone. . ; 188 



INDEX. 



He will Never Come Home any More 35 

Holy Rest 49 

Hunters of Cherokee 70 

Intemperance 158 

In the Day-Spring of Life 43 

I Thank You for that One Kind Word 93 

Jeremiah Among the Ruins of Jerusalem 51 

Joy in a Southern Home 100 

Julia 191 

Katie T 197 

La Cisne 131 

Leading the Blind 13G 

Lillie Gammage '37 

Little Fannie 130 

Little Katie Mullins 136 

Lines on Visiting the Grave of a Friend 133 

Lord, I Come 50 

Love 104 

Magnolia 113 

Miller Ellis 73 

Miss Bonnie McD 73 

Morning Prayer , 61 

Morris Reagan 160 

My Black Cat, Satan 74 

My Dark Eyed Georgia Friend 149 

My Harp and Heart 40 

My Mother 118 

No Name 112 

Octavia 101 

Ode to My First Music Teacher 106 

Our Delinquents 83 

Our Pic-Nic 185 

Paraphrase trom Galatians 62 

Paraphrase of the First Psalm 58 

Paraphrase of the XLIII Psalm , . 60 

Quiet Meditation 119 

Rats 71 

Recollections of Palestine 145 

Repentance 59 

Sallie of Seguin 194 

Serenade 187 

Sitting in Darkness 189 

Song from Home 193 

Song of the Odd Fellows 161 

Song of the Beautiful Dream 76 



stall zns to 190 

Stanzas to Miuo ]i)3 

Take Back the Harp 114 

The Hfll of Kuclid Lodge (No. 45) 127 

The Bible ]()2 

The Brothel 105 

The Dying Prisoner 131 

The Eye 103 

The Girls of Rusk 142 

The Last Words of Moses C4 

The New Made Grave 124 

The Old Year 80 

The Plaeo oi Divine Worship 109 

The Place Where Anna Used to Play I71 

The Prophecy 5g 

The Rusk Young Men I35 

The Soldier's Request 135 

The .''wcet Musician is No More 168 

The Two Friends 85 

The Two Roses 15-) 

'I'he Two Sisters 7g 

The Vacant Hour 174 

The Voice of Wisdom 103 

Thou Art Gone 115 

To A n Old School-Mate 183 

Tol^e '..'.'.'.'..[['.'..'.'.'.'.'.'.'..'.'.'.'..'.'. 6fi 

To Freddie 133 

To Mamie 177 

To ,\Iy Pupil 120 

Union Hymn 52 

Verses Composed at the Grave of a Little Child 88 

Wailing I65 

Watehii!g 97 

We Know Thee 162 

We Shall Jleet Again gg 

Written For a Lady's Album 196 

Written ill New Orleans 196 

Written to thj Rusk Union Sunday School 143 

Youthful Days, Part 1 5 

Youthful Days, Part 11 I4 

Youthful Day8,;Part HI 22 



Copyright 1878, by R. B McEACHl-JRN. 



DEDICATION. 



I have written this hook witli a view to impart 

Cousohitiou to those of a sorrowful mind ; 
To the broken in spirit, the troubled of heart, 

To the widow, the or]>han, the poor and the blind ; 
And if what is recorded should meet with success 

In accomplishing? half it purjjoses to do, 
Be the good of the author, for greater or less, 

In proportion to that which is faithful and true. 

There are many who read for the sake of the rhyme, 

Without ever reflecting on what they peruse ; 
For the poorest among us have valuable time. 

Which they wisely improve, or in idleness lose : 
But the sum of the matter is easily told. 

And the jiroof is sufficient in every respect : 
We are selling ourselves for the silver and gold 

Of this world, while our duty to God we neglect. 

And to what shall the profits of all we amass, 

Be directed when death has demanded its own ; 
For the glitter of wealth cannot purchase a pass. 

Through the portals of death, to a crown and a throne. 
We shall reap without fear — if we sow as we should, 

And have faith in the riches of grace to preserve 
All our labor ; for God is iiitinitelv good. 

And will judge us according to what we deserve. 



YoLitl^ful f^liy^. 



PART I. 



Is this the sacred spot, and this the tree [free, 

Beueath whose spreatlinjj: houghs while young and 

I have so oft in summer days reclined, 

To weigh the future, vague and undefined — 

With many playmates and companions dear, 

Who knew not danger, nor the dread of fear ? 

Yes, memory echos, that in former days. 

These woods resounded with our childish plays; 

But some are ahsent who deserve a sigh^ 

" Mcmenfo Mori ; " for we all must die. 

Dear Henry Brown, the widow's generous son. 
Whose sands of life seemed prematurely run ; 
And Wiley Jones, that honest hearted youth, 
Appreciated for his love of truth. 
Sweet Mollie Bonner, too, our pride and pet. 
Who passed from earth and left us to I'egret, 
That one so amiable sliouUl die so young ; 
But many a heart has been by anguish wrung. 
And many a motlier since that time has given 
Her precious darling to the care of Heaven. 



6 YOUTHFUL DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 

Oh, what is life — that we sliould wish to cling, 
Where death is ruling over everything ! 
Say, gentle memory, can'st thou here recall 
The little moniitl and pleasant waterfall. 
The shady grove, made sacred by our lays, 
The playmate "Wis," conijianion of my days, 
The voice of Julia, tenderly endeared. 
And warbling Nemo, none the less revered, 
The clustering vines that hung above the spring ; 
And then the tree, where Cattie used to swing. 

These arms have oft embraced yon mountain pine, 
Around whose trunk still clings the wedded vine — 
As if disdaining to be torn away — 
But evergreens must moulder and decay. 
The forest trees, that stood so proudly 'round 
The old log court house on the public ground. 
Have been removed ; and few are left to tell 
Where sunk the bucket of the townsman's well. 
The Leonard grove has also felt the stroke, 
And houses stand where General Houston si)oke. 

The tan yard si)ring, that sweet resort of old, 
Where multitudes assembled to behold 
Miss Lizzie Moore, who gave amid applause 
The ladies' banner to the Tenii)erance cause, 
Has been neglected ; and the rustic bench. 
That stood upon the lull above the trench. 
No longer forms a table for the mass ; 
But gray-haired citizens, who chance to pass 
Along that way, point out the little wood. 
And show the spot on which the speaker stood. 

The "Pine log wash hole," near the Wiggins held. 
Where Jackson's type box doated half conceahul. 
Is filled with sand ; and Lang has ceased to chide 



HY K. H. MtEACHERN. 



The miscliief-makern for their merry ride. 

No more beside the murmuring brook we roam, 

Romautie as tlie forest eliikl at liome, 

No longer on the grassy j^hit we stand 

Or roll each other in the heated sand ; 

For life, like morning, merges into noon, 

And time will bring tlu' evening on too soou. 

Those happy hours have long since passed away, 

■Each little tlower has crumbled into clay, 

Yet 'round the spot as fades the brilliant bloom. 

Its little seed shall seek an early tomb. 

Anil lie protected by its mother Earth, 

'Till waked by sunlieams to a second birth. 

Thus when I pause to contemplate the scene 

Where Marietta, Matt and Riuie Green 

With Ann and Cora played in days of your, 

I wish our childhood could return once more. 

Ye, who are standing on the very verge 
Of man's estate, be thoughtful ere you urge 
Your childish claims upon society ; 
For there is nothing that appeal's to be 
More out of place, than when a youth declares 
His self-importance to maturer years. 
A tree transplanted from its native soil, 
Will not always repay us for our toil. 
Improve your minds, let I>etter judgment rule. 
Economize — and send yourselves to school. 

Oh, there are jewels which we treasure up 
Within our memories, like the silver cup 
That Joseph to his younger l)rother gave. 
But far more precious : for beyond the grave, 
We have a glorious heritage with God, 
And while our forms repose beneath the sod 
Our disembodied spirits shall ascend 



YOUTHFUL, DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 



To Him, who gave them ; O ! our Heavenly Friend 
Be merciful — there we sliall meet again 
And sing our childhood iu a loftier strain. 

Yes, William Givens, let us try to be 

Prepared to meet them in eternity ; 

For youthful days, however dear they seem, 

Are but the shailows of a Hitting dream. 

Adieu my cousins John B., Joe and Belle — 

Long may your hearts with joyous mem'ries swell ; 

Long may the flowers of youth with dewy lips 

Kiss off old age, and laughingly eclipse 

Whatever change the future maj' disclose, 

And 1)3' each thorn of sorrow plant a X'ose. 

I love the jnemory of those pleasant hours. 
When 8allie Woolfolk used to bring jne flowers, 
And place them in my hands so tenderly. 
And tell of how she sympathized with me. 
Because I could not look upon them there. 
Or see their colors, varied, rich and rare. 
That i)atient one has felt the cold embrace 
Of silent death ; and tho' her youthful face 
i-^hall vxnne no more to smile on those she knew, 
This tribute to her faithfulness is due. 

The little school house, nortli of east from town, 

Has been renioved, the oaks are all cut down, 

And there is not a vestige left to show 

Where Ouinn presided many years ago. 

His pupils have been scattered far an<l wide. 

And some of them in difierent states reside. 

He taught them how to love their books, and said — 

"The living fill the places of the dead, 

And when your fathers bid this world adieu 

The Church and State must be sustained by you." 



BY R. K. MCEACHERN. 



Society is only kept alive, 

Where virtue and religious freedom thrive; 

And should these liberties be snatched away, 

Our nation's brightest hopes would then decay. 

If in the nursery we are not controlled, 

'Tis useless for our names to be enrolled 

I'pon a list with those who value books, 

More highly for their learning than their looks. 

Our hrst impressions form the pattern plan, 

A useful boy will make a useful man. 

The wolf of i)overty is near our doors, 
Howling for bread, and scant are all our stores ; 
For labor's dying. Oh, how shall we bear 
The grief of others, and our own despair 
Without a murmer, when we look ar<Hind 
And see so many cumberers of the ground 
Living at ease — the gayest of the gay. 
Heaping up debts they never mean to pay, 
Watching to see what other people do. 
And like Micawber — waiting something new. 

Their expectations are so far ahead. 
That those who labor, feel a natural dread 
Of hearing them discuss the golden plan — 
Hy which each one's to be a wealthy man. 
Yes, is to be ; but when is it to be? 
The answer needs no echo : all agree. 
And will the truth of these remarks allow ; 
Too many feet are running from the plow- 
Too many cy.'s are looking for the shade. 
Too many men grow up without a trade. 

Too many towns and cities of the South, 

Are filled with those who live from hand to mouth 

And still we strive to emulate their deeds. 



10 YOUTHFUL DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 

By leaving fertile fields to grass and weeds. 

Can these spontaneous tenants pay their rents, 

Or do we show a want of common sense, 

By gloving up our liands and sitting down 

To malvc small wages in a country town, 

Or Hying to the cities for relief, 

Where tempted thousands yearly come to grief? 

Oh ! happy farmer, freest of the free — 
Peace and contentment ever dwell with thee. 
Hast thou a son ? Bid him remain at home ; 
For there are jiits prepared for those who roam. 
And they ar j covered o'er so nice and well. 
That none expect to find a gamhler's hell 
Beneath the sign that reads " Come up, grow rich," 
Till cards and whisky drag them in the ditch, 
And leave them there to ponder o'er their loss — 
Dead to the world and given to remorse. 

So ends the vagrant, who was once a child, 
With loving eyes as innocent and mild 
As those we see around us every day. 
God help our young men, wiien they go astray ; 
And help us all, for all of us have need — 
Tlie one who writes, as well as those who read. 
Teach us to walk along the narrow path — 
That leads us to a shelter from Thy wrath ; 
And when the suuds of temporal life are run. 
Receive us tlirougli tlie merits of Tliy Son. 

We are unworthy of tlie boon we crave ; 
But souls are never buried in the grave. 
For they are all immortal — and we know 
That each must live for happiness, or woe. 
'Tis jjlainly taught by all of nature's laws, 
And their existence proves a primal cause ; 



BY R. B. :StCEACHERN, 11 

And from that cause we argue there must be 
A Living Ruler in Eternity ; 
For out of clianoe sucli order cannot spring : 
There is a God — an everlasting King. 

But see how many changes have been made, 

Since Viclv and Dan as otlior cliildreu played, 

Or George and Mary i)addled in the spring, 

Pr little Bettie learned to sweetly sing. 

She listened to the birds and caught their lays 

And smiling lips shall speak her future praise ; 

But, hark ! what other voice is that I hear. 

So grateful and familiar to my ear? 

Another hand is on the sounding strings, 

And Rusk is glad while Mary Armstrong sings. 

In music there is something so divine. 
That when we linger near its sacred shrine. 
Our human hearts are filled with pure desires ; 
We long to be with angels, hear tlieir choirs ; 
And recognize the voices we have known 
Upon the earth — around the Father's Throne. 
A few more years of watchfulness and care, 
A few more j'ears of sorrow and despair, 
A few more days, perhaps a few more hours. 
And God will come and gather up His flowers. 

O, happy childhood let thy sunny field, 
A richer harvest to my fancy yield ; 
For memory has been wandering o'er aud o'er. 
The gloomiest pictures in its golden store, 
And now 'tis time to make a little cliange. 
And give the tiieme a more extended range. 
Call back the liovs and let me hear tliem sav 
We're going to fight tiie Biunble bees to-day; 



12 YOUTHFUL, DAYS AND OTIIEK POEMS, 



Put OH your hat and throw away your shoes — 
C )iiK' o)i — make haste — we have no time to lose. 

Tlie voiee of Joe was loud in its request, 
And as we charged on the infernal nest. 
We heard the vicious humming of their wings 
And felt the freedom of their furious stings. 
The onset was conducted by us all, 
But now and then we heard an urchin squall. 
Till one by one with rapid feet conveyed 
His suffering body from the painful raid. 
And since that time it makes me ill at ease 
To hear the children talk of Hunible Becx. 

When Rusk was young we had a camping ground. 

With logs for seats, and straw was scattered 'round, 

To keep our feet from stirring up the dust, 

And save our Sunday clotliing from the rust. 

The people came from every neighborhood. 

And mischief-makers mingled with the good. 

Some stood aloof, or loitered in and out 

To loose a horse, or hear a convert shout. 

While others bowed themselves in humble prayer, 

And sought and found the Lord of Glory there. 

In those bright days when Rusk was in the woods, 
And T. L. Philleo was selling goods. 
When B. D. Hendricks on the fiddle played, 
And Allen Cameron danced with Dr. Wade, 
When Long was lively as the other boys. 
And Asa Dassett joined their social joys, 
The people were united, and they strove 
To make each other happy by their love. 
Oh ! may this lesson that the past imparts 
Receive the sanction of our grateful hearts. 



BY R. H. :^rcEACHKRN. 13 



We had a paper called the " Pioneer," 

And thus it read : " i^efore another year 

The locomotive aud the cars will be 

Upon the soil of good, old Cherokee ; " 

And men began with energy to build, 

And hoped to see the i)roi)hecy fulfilled. 

But when the time ap|)ointed ])assed away. 

It brought no train, and since that fjital day, 

The iron horse has switched his fiery tail, 

Aud passed through Rusk — " A riding on a rail." 

The public spirit of a people dies 

Form want of energy and enterprise. 

And if we sit with folded iuuids and wait. 

For time, or chance to bring us something great, 

' Tis useless for us ever to expect, 

Improvement while we foster such neglect. 

Throw off the yoke, aud stand in the advance, 

The interest of your children to enhance, 

For filial love is worth a mint of gold, 

And thev will care for you when you are old. 

Oh ! there are hearts whose constancy has won 

A reputation like the rising sun ; 

And iu our sadness, when we feel tliem twine 

Their loving tendrils 'round us, as a vine — 

It gives us courage to renew our strife 

With poverty, and lead a better life. 

Those who have suffered most are always best 

Prepared to cheer, and comfort the distressed ; 

And in the darkest hour of human grief 

The saddest heart may find a sweet relief. 

Farewell, companions of my youthful days, 
And if you find within these humble lays, 



14 YOUTHFUL DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 

Some words of consolation — I shall feel 
Rewarded for the comfort they reveal. 
The God of memory is the God of mind, 
And He has i^romised to protect the blind. 
I thank you now for all that you have done, 
And when the restless race of life is run, 
I hope to meet each little girl and boy 
Of happy childhood in Eternal Joy. 



PART II. 



AUSTIN. 



Away, where solitude retires to rest, 

Upon the broad prairies of the West ; 

Where passiug clouds, with shadowy wiugs o'ercast 

Bring back the sweet remembrance of the past, 

A southern city, from an emerald vase 

Of rank, wild rye, lifts up its sunny face, 

And this is Austin. Take a casual view 

Of College Hill and Congress Avenue. 

Few public buildings lift their lofty domes 

Above more happy, hospitable homes. 

I've stood upon the summit of Bonnell, 
And heard the Colorado's waters swell 
And roar beneath my feet, uutil the sun 
Went down behind the hill-clad horizon. 
While toward the south, under a twilight sky. 
The city slept in sombre majesty. 
The sea-breeze nestled in the live oak grove. 



BY R. R. MCEARCHERN. 15 



The cedars waved the rocky cliffs above, 
The rising moon unveiled her silver crest 
And scattered pearls upon the river's breast. 

Go up at sunrise, when the vapers throw 
Their purple mantles o'er the vale below ; 
Go up at noonday, when the sky, serene, 
Adds radiant lustre to the beautiful scene; 
(^o up at evening, when the shadows fall 
In dewy stillness, like a funeral pall. 
Upon the train of the departing day. 
And as you gaze upon each fading ray, 
Remember, with humility, the strife 
Of man's existence, and the end of life. 

Above the Capitol, and sad to tell. 

The lunatics in their asylum dwell. 

Their stately building crowns a flowery i^lain, 

But there is sadness in a clanking chain, 

And when a man of reason is bereft. 

And nothing but his desolation left. 

It is a grief that beggars words to tell — 

Calamity, without a parallel. 

O, tender mercy, breathe thy healing breath 

On such affliction — in the hour of death. 

Beyond the river, in a verdant vale. 
That feeds with fragrance every passing gale, 
When April pours her most refreshing showers, 
And sunshine slumbers in a lap of flowers. 
The deaf and dumb are learning to define 
Each inward feeling by an outward sign. 
Their tongues are silent, but their fingers move 
The rapid currentof their thoughts to prove. 
Blest are their ears, for they have never heard 
A bitter oath, or any unkind word. 



16 YOUTHFUL DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 

The Colorado spreads its shining sheet 
Of crystal waters at the city's feet ; 
And, Oh, at night 'tis beautiful to trace. 
The captured gleams that sleep in the embrace 
Of that pure stream, descending from afar — 
For every wavelet holds a trembling star ; 
And all the rocks and trees its banks along. 
Repeat the chorus of its ceaseless song. 
Sad are the blind : the hearing of their ears 
So often fills their sightless eyes with tears 

Behold yon bird, whose gently waving wings 
Are keeping time to every note he sings ; 
You recognize him by the aid of sight; 
I only know him by his sounding flight : 
You look upon him as he moves in space ; 
I feel his cold dark shadow on my face. 
But He who formed the plumage of the bird. 
And tuned its voice, has left His written word, 
To comfort those who mourn their temporal loss, 
And teach the christian how to bear the cross. 

Towards the East, upon another plot 

Of rising ground, the sweet-forget-me-not, 

And many other tender emblems prove 

The grateful memory and surviving love 

Of Austin for eacli dear, departed one. 

And at the rising of the morning's sun, 

A thousand dew-drops melting into sjiray, 

Proclaim tlie presence of another day. 

While near at hand, upon a neighboring green, 

The Institution for the blind is seen. 

Say, Dr. Baker, man of noble mind, 

Are not your sympatliies still witli the blind ? 

Oft have we met together at the ))lace 



BY B. B. MCEACHEEN. 17 

Of family worship, kneeling face to face, 

Oft have I heard thy voice upon the air. 

Melting in accents of devoted prayer, 

"That those who were secluded from the light 

Might heconie useful, though deprived of sight; 

Might bear in peace misfortune's chastening rod 

And be subservient to the will of God." 

Nor none the less revered our matron kind, 
That sweet, maternal guardian of the blind, 
" Wafted by breezes " from you distant shore, 
The land of Phillip and the home of Moore. 
And thou, with generosity supreme. 
The tutor of my first and childish dream : 
Yes, William Otis, years have passed away, 
But thy true friendship never can decay. 
With fcenes like these 'tis pleasant to recall 
The sweet guitar and songs of Bur. Duvall. 

Oft, listening to the Choir's harmonious flow, 

I've heard with pride the bass that joined below. 

And recognized amid its harmony, 

The well trained voice of Colonel Thomas B : 

"O, come and let us sing unto the Lord, 

And heartily rejoice with one accord ; 

Let us with thanks before His i^resence show. 

Our gratitude His righteous will to know." 

And still they meet to woi'ship as of yore, 

But some are absent to return no more. 

I love the Bible. Every precious leaf 
Contains some consolation for the grief, 
Which, from my childhood I have tried to bear; 
And as I struggle with the dark despair, 
That folds itself about me, like a shroud, 
Or hangs above me, as a pendant cloud — 
3 



18 YOUTHFUL DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 

I hear familiar voices tlirough the mist, 
Sliake liands, pass on, and manage to exist ; 
For well I know tliis transitory gloom 
Shall be exclianged for light, beyond the tomb. 

Wlien struggling passions in the human mind 

Abate, they leave a rolling sea behind. 

Yet raging storms subside and calms prevail, 

And leave no wave to ruffle in tlie gale. 

The harshest tone tliat mingles witli the air, 

May find its echo in a fervent prayer. 

There is a star which guides the wondering feet. 

Of way-worn pilgrims to the Mercy Seat, 

There is a living language in the eye. 

Which speaks of love and tender sympathy. 

Time has elapsed and changes have been made 
Since last I loitered, o'er that rocky glade. 
Hand in hand witli — But words cannot exjilain. 
And I have loved tliec Andrew, not in vain. 
And thou who didst, with more than common joy, 
Despel the sadness of a poor, blind boy 
By reading books, his fancy to engage : 
Yes, Morris Reagan, thougii it seems an age 
Since by thy death our souls were forced to part. 
Thou hast the memory of a grateful heart. 

Thy lonely children, lovely little girls — 
Their father's idols and their mother's pearls — 
Are orphans now, but may the time ne'er come 
When they shall sigh, because they have no home. 
Oh ! wliat is life when all that love endears 
Is taken from us in our early years. 
And we are left with strangers to contend, 
Without assistance, and without a friend ; 



BY R. B. MCEACHERN. 19 

Without the meaus of dohig what we would, 
To sooth the sorrows of our hrotherhood. 

Dear Willie Bush has fouud a place of rest 

Beside the Brazos, ou the sunny breast 

Of that fair lull, where Waco's dead repose ; 

And there he'll sleep until the trumpet blows 

To resurrect that pale and silent band 

Whose graves have drank the tears of every land. 

"No monument of stone now marks the place,',' 

Where death retains him in its cold embrace; 

One little tree is all that spreads its shade 

Upon the spot of earth in which he's laid. 

The Barton Springs, the picnic parties' pride — 
Whose cooling waters many a lip lias tried. 
Would All a volumn with the fairy tales 
Of Austin's lovers, if its rocky vales 
Could gather up their echoes and impart 
The earnest words of every faithful heart. 
But love is like a cloud upon the breast 
Of gentle evening, and it sinks to rest, 
Without a murmer, as the setting sun. 
And sadness fills the vacancy it won. 

Yes, Willie Gray, those liappy days are gone ; 

But when you wander o'er the grassy lawn. 

At twylight, as we used to do of old, 

And think how oft the city bells have tolled. 

The sad departure of the many true, 

And faithful friends, who walked with me and you : 

When Jimmie's songs the summer nights beguiled. 

And Bob was young, and Mary but a child, 

I know your heart, like mine, is filled with pain. 

Because those joys can never come again. 



20 YOUTHFUL, DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 

I love the Institution for tlie blind. 
The pure devotion of its inmates kind 
Is like the love of Heaven, and makes me feel 
Contented with the cold and cloudy weal 
Of my existence; and where'er I roam, 
With all the fondness of a child from home, 
I long once more to feel the warm embrace 
Of those who never saw the human face. 
And hear their voices, as they tell me o'er 
The many changes since the days of yore. 

No more a;loug the river's banks we stray. 
Or on the rocks, or 'mong the cedars play ; 
For time has tamed the buoyancy of youth. 
And taught us all to realize the truth. 
Of what we read in Buuyan, when we thought 
The progress of his pilgrim over-wrought ; 
And now, the world a wilderness we And, 
With here and there a friend to lead the blind. 
But soon the gloom of this protracted night, 
Shall merg€ into a morn of endless light. 

What glorious scenes shall vision then unfold. 

When we the stars of heaven do behold ; 

And wander o'er that universal field 

Of boundless space, where grandeur unconcealed, 

Displays the beauty of His holiness. 

Who died to save a wicked world like this. 

Oh ! what is earth with all its fading trees. 

Its crumbling rocks and ever changing seas. 

Compared with that delightful, happy place, 

Where we shall see the Savior's smiling face. 

Ye cannot feast your eyes on objects here, — 
But be contented : only persevere. 



BY R. B. M( EACHERN, 21 

And when the fullness of the time has come 
For God to call His sightless children home, — 
Your vision, unobstructed, shall pervade 
The Holy City which His hands have made: 
And then perchance as fancy may incline, 
Assisted by some messenger divine, 
Bevisit earth, and contemplate with pride, 
What blindness to your former state denied. 

Oh ! Austin, Austin ! let thy vacant chairs 
Remind thee of their altars and thy prayers. 
There is a name adapted to my strain. 
Preserved in memory, nor preserved in vain. 
Which, though unsung, shall still remembered be, 
"As one who dwells in immortality." 
Oh ! Thou, who didst protect my youthful days, 
To whom I owe the tribute of all praise. 
Through coming life extend Thy helping hand. 
And teach me to observe Thy high command. 

Adieu, dear Austin ! May the sun ne'er shine 
Upon the man who works for thy decline. 
The Capitol of Texas, east and west. 
To all our common interests suited best. 
Bought with the blood of heroes, to contain 
The precious archives of our vast domain, — 
Thou standest proudly on thy hills of stone. 
And all the people hail thee as their own. 
Be thou a living monument to jirove. 
The grateful memory of a patriot's love. 



22 YOUTHFUL DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 



PART III. 



HOME AGAIN, AFTER AN ABSENCE OF FIVE YEARS. 



Dear Rusk, the scene of many a social joy. 

Delightful to the nieniory of a boy, 

Once more I come thy citizens among, 

To sing the song that years have left unsung ; 

To touch, if possible, some tender chord 

Of sympathy, or speak a soothing word ; 

To mingle witli their tears my own and feel, 

As near my father's lonely grave I kneel, 

How sad it is to loose a parent friend, 

And with the cold, indifferent world contend. 

Alas ! how little does our childhood know 

Of those responsibilities which grow 

With riper years. We all have had one grief. 

Thank God for sympathy, it bring's relief 

To every class. It is the interlude 

Between our sorrow and our gratitude ; 

A heavenly impulse, kindredly allied 

With meek humility against our pride; 

A going out in spirit to embrace 

One half the sufferings of the human race. 

Oh, Rusk, my soul with longing rapture thrills, 
To contemplate the grandeur of thy hills. 
Whose iron strength and interposing forms 
Protect tliy children from the passing storms. 
For in our helplessness their strength remains ; 
They grasp the lightning, hold the hurricanes, 
And turn away, before their rocky shields. 
The desolators of a hundred fields ; 



BY K. B. MCEACHERN. 23 

They save the town, the vanquished clouds deploy, 
And weep o'er what they, threatened to destroy. 

But hark ! I hear among the distant rocks, 
The voice of hunters ; they have jumped the fox. 
And now behold the simultaneous rush, 
Of men and horses tangled in the brush. 
They shout, they scramble, they are free again — 
And now they dash away o'er hill and plain, 
And just as day is dawning in the East, 
Their anxious eyes on wild confusion feast. 
Possession crowns the pleasure of the chase, 
And all go home to talk about the race. 

M id scenes like these, Dear Tom, thy harp was strung. 

And every cord is like the silver tongue 

Of some sweet bird that sings the whole night long, 

And keeps its silence melting into song. 

The sunny fields through which we used to roam. 

In happy childhood 'round the mountain home. 

Together with the kind and watchful care. 

Of those who made me always welcome there. 

Have formed such links in "memory's mystic chain" 

That only death can sever them in twain. 

Oh ! what a consolation we derive. 

From loving things, whose merits we revive 

Within our breasts as jewels set ajiart, 

To be the keepsakes of a manly heart. 

We've known each other. Rusk, for many years. 

And is it strange that memory thirsts for tears, 

When, every Autumn spreads its leaves above 

Some tender objects of our early love? 

Oh, no, it is not strange ! But who can say 

What eyes shall weep when we are called away. 



24 YOUTHFUL. DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 

'Twill matter little then, for when the waves 

Of death have closed above our peaceful graves ; 

When strangers' feet these grassy lawns have prest, 

Beneath whose turf our mortal bodies rest ; 

When other hearts that love, as ours have done, 

Have marked the rising and the setting sun 

Of their existence on tliis temporal shore, 

Till evening fades, and twilight is no more ; 

Oh, may the star of Bethlehem arise, 

Ts light us home, where pleasure never dies ! 

Weep not, and when the sacrifice is made 

Although it leaves thee like a withered blade 

Of grass among the green herbs of the field, 

Thou'lt still have power and energy to wield, 

The sceptre of humanity above 

The wayward tenderness of worldly love. 

A form of beauty is a thing of dust. 

And when you see it fading, as you msut. 

Remember that the visit of the soul 

Is always left for reason to control. 

Among the precious memories of the past, 

I sing of none more worthy to be classed 

With those I love as friends, than Alice Rai)ies ; 

And while my fancy weaves its golden chains 

Of pure affection 'round the doors of yore, 

I think of those upon the other shore. 

Who passed from time into eternity. 

To wait our coming, and I trust that we 

Shall be accounted worthy to unite 

With all our loved ones in that world of light. 

Day after day with skillful hands we try. 
The common wants of nature to supply ; 



BY K. B. MCEACHERN. 25 



And wheu we find our labor has been blessed, 
Desire increases, and we feel distressed 
Because our neighbor drives a finer team, 
And then we plunge into the restless stream 
Of toiling thousands, willing to engage 
In anything, to keep up with tlie age ; 
And tluis it is that healtli and strength are lost 
Before we learn to estimate tlie cost. 

• 

Oh, sweet contentment, I would rather be. 
Deprived of riches than bereft of thee! 
Thy presence is the sunshine of the heart — 
Thy absence causes many a tear to start. 
As some fair virgin, whose alluring glance 
Fills the young soul with an ecstatic trance. 
So to my childish vision first appeared 
Thy real worth, and now tliou art revered 
With all the powers that first impressions prove, 
And next to God, T liold thee in my love. 

The friendship of this world is like a fiower, 
That needs attention almost every hour. 
It grows spontaneous in a prosperous place, 
And looks the loveliest in a silver vase; 
It blooms in beauty 'round a palace door, 
But dies among the hovels of the poor. 
Its leaves are fioating in the fatal cup 
That social hell invites a man to sup ; 
And do not deem the picture over-wrought, 
The friendship of the world is easy bought. 

There is a feeling of a dillereut kind. 
That emanates from sources more refined. 
And fills the heart and makes it overfiow 
With love akin t<» Heaven here below ; 
4 



26 YOUTHFUL DAYS i^ND OTHER POEMS, 

And this is friendship's never failing strength 

Tliat lives with man through all the weary length 

Of his existence, whether bound or free, 

The same in wealth, the same in poverty, 

A pure perennial flower, wliose fragrance throws 

A thousand sweets into each cup of woes. 

Yes, Mary Priest, this friendship when possessed 
Will cause its owner to be doubly blessed. 
Where loving hearts our tender thoughts engage. 
It brightens youth and adds a charm to age. 
"Familiar objects may be changed by time," 
But tenderness is never more sublime. 
Than when it recognizes by degrees, 
The dear, old horn, stead, and the stately trees 
Whose leafy branches threw tlieir shadows o'er 
Our friends and sweethearts in the days of yore. 

Unfading momories, youthful days of yore, 
Oh ! how I long to t>e a child once more, 
And recognize amid the happy throng 
Of singing girls, my little sister's song ; 
And hear the good advice my father trieil 
To give to all his children, ere he died. 
He called the family at the hour of one. 
And said : " My race on earth is nearly run." 
And then lie gave to each his parting hand, 
And angels I tore him to the spirit land. 

Our sad, surviving mother bowed her head, 
And wept in silence o'er our precious dead. 
Till God in mercy, wiped away her tears ; 
And now I pray that her declining years 
May be sustained ; and when the time is rife 
To pass tlirough death into eternal life. 



BY R. B. MCEACHERN. 27 



Oh ! niuy she have the faith to stem the tide 
And meet her loved ones on the other side, 
As Miriam wlien she saw her nation cross 
Tlie rajj:ing sea witliout a single loss. 

Surge on, poor heart, and send the hlood along 
Through every vein, and make her body strong ; 
For one ai\d sixty years have passed and gone, 
And thou hast faithful been, but oh, surge ou 
A little longer, till I take my breath, 
And fortify my soul to bear this death. 
I know that it must soon, or later, be. 
And then, Oh, mother who will care for me? 
What eys shall brighten for thy sightless one, 
Or who will love iiim when thy race is run? 

There is a providence that will protect. 

But often in our folly we reflect 

Upon the wisdom of Almighty God ; 

And when He makes us feel His chastening rod 

We murmur at the mercy He extends. 

And shape His kindness to our selfish ends. 

Oh ! when the secrets of our thoughts shall lay 

Before us on that Judgment Day, 

What poor excuse shall then be given in 

For this enormity of willful sin ? 

A potter has the power to form the clay, 
And shape his vessel as his fancy may 
Incline him in his daily task to do — 
And so the Lord created me and you, 
And if He gives to me a double share 
Of light, and leaves ihe other in despair— 
The world is but a footstool to His Tiirone, 
And has He not the right to rule His own? 



28 YOUTHFUL, DAYS AND DTHER POEMS, 



Oh, yes, and tuniely I submit, because 

He governs all things by His righteous laws. 

In youthful days liow many have been cast 

X'pon the world, to float without a mast ; 

How many, poor, neglected and despised 

Have been bereft, and started unadvised. 

Without a helm, without a single sail. 

Without a penny or a jjrosperous gale ; 

And yet, the self-made man who weathers through 

The howling storm, and sees the azure blue 

Beyond the clouds, will live to find a land, 

Where riches shall reward tlie toiling liand. 

And thus it is witli those who persevere 
In doing well, and when tlieir works appear 
Before the great, inspecting Architect 
Who built the universe. He'll not neglect 
To render equal justice, and accord 
To each a blessing, and a bright reward. 
Then let us all so live, that when we come 
To die and leave this transitory iiome. 
Our aching heads uj)on the Savior's breast, 
Shall feel tlie comfort of eternal rest. 

There is a solace in the secret i)rayer, 
That saves the broken-hearted from despair; 
And when we see our dearest idols cast 
Like autumn leaves l)efore the driving blast. 
Although it costs us many a bitter pain. 
Perhaps 'tis done to bring us back again ; 
And cause our pure affections to embrace 
The long extended but neglected Grace, 
That God, in mercy, gives to those who prove 
More worthv of His never dving love. 



BY R. B. MCEACHERN. 29 



As helpless bahes, we enter into life, 

And ere we learn to struggle witli tiie strife 

That sin has brought upon this world of ours, 

Our strength is gone ; and like the many flowers 

That hloom in l)eauty, on our pathway here, — 

We sinlv into the grave and disappear ; 

But youthful days, by age and deatii subdued, 

Shall have their joys in lieaven all renewed, 

And every loved one, who has gone before 

■ Will meet us on that bright, ininiortal shore. 
) 

My little barcjue, tliougii frail, upon life's sea 

Has struggled fiercely for its liberty ; 

And when the world is worn by time and tide, 

And generations living, shall have died, — 

I trust, Dear Comrades, that we all shall be 

With holy angels in eternity. 

Farewell ! It makes me sad to write the word. 

But while on earth my humble prayers are heard, 

I'll bless my friends and not forget to praise 

The God and Guardian of my youthful days. 

And must I leave this happy, happy state 

Of youthful joy, to share the common fate 

Of millions, Avho are buffetting tlie waves. 

That roll between their cradles and their graves? 

Must I exchange this freedom I enjoy. 

And be no more regarded as a boy ? 

Oh, fearful thought ! Upon the very brink 

Of early manhood, yet I dare not shrink, 

For time propels the flight of coming years. 

And life is mine, with all its liopes and fears. 

Not mine to keep, but only to improve. 
And whether ruled l)y hatred or by love, 



30 YOUTHFUL DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 

The great respousibility must rest 

"With me alone ; for God has not expressed 

His willingness to render any aid, 

To those who fold their hands and feel afraid. 

So I am not to hold myself exempt. 

No, T would rather die in the attempt. 

And have my name enrolled among the dead, 

Thau not to serve my God and earn my bread. 

The first, I own, has been neglefted most, 
But should he come and find me at my post, 
The sentinel will never be discharged. 
Without his sphere of happiness enlarged. 
Once more, farewell ! It sadly grieves my heart 
To write these closing lines, but we must part. 
My youthful day is fading in the west. 
My soul is weary, and I sigh for rest. 
The song hath ceased, and twilight hovers o'er 
The harp, whose silence I shall wake no more. 



BY R. B. MCEACHERN. 31 



City of tlie G[reiil fligli 9i4e^t. 



A MASONIC POEM DEDICATED TO C. A. MILLER, RUSK, TEXAS. 



"And he ctirried me away in the spirit to a great and high moun- 
tain, and shewed me tliat great city the Holy Jerusalem, des- 
cending out of Heaven from God."— Kev. xxi. 10. 

I was standing alone on the beautiful side [pride 

Of a mountain whose summit was crowned with the 
Of an architect-king, and I looked and behold, 
Every gate was a pearl upon hinges of gohl ; 
And they opened to some, wliile on others they shut. 
And tlie former had joy and the hitter regret. 
Then I asked of the keeper wlio stood by my side, 
Wliy it was tliat so many were entrance denied ? 
And he said in a voice which my fancy api^roved, 
That the "Land marks of P\ithers are never removed." 

" As tliat arch," lie continued, "receives its support 
F'rom those columns tliat stand in tlie fivjiit of tlie 
So the heart that is willing, by helping to bear [court; 
The misfortunes of others, may lighten their care; 
But the mind of a man, as the surface of stone. 
Must be polished l)efore it is properly shown. 
By the aid of your language your thoughts you convey, 
But as language is change, and as nations decay. 
We have symbols and signs, which are true to their 
As the spirit to God, or the body to dust. [trust. 



32 YOUTHFUL DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 



" lu yoii valley below there are many who wait 
For the sign of admission to enter this gate; 
But the test is a hard one, and men are dismayed 
When they know that their merits liave first to be 

weighed. 
Though tlie eye of tlie morning is brightest in June, 
And the stars are eclipsed by its radiant noon, 
Tliere are shadows that follow the evening's decline. 
And the i)ass word is holy, t() portals divine! 
If you're i)ieased witli the vision, and would be a guest 
At the feast of the Master, ' look well to the West.' " 

"I am pleased with the vision, but tell me, I pray, 
What is taugiit i)y tlie morning and evening of day ? 
For the former revisits the earth with its light. 
And tlie latter is lost in the gloom of the night." 
" O, you cannot," he said, " with your vision ol)scure. 
Understand what is taught, but your life mi\y be pure. 
And the precepts of those, who before you have gone. 
As the beautiful flowers from the turf of tlie lawn, 
May be land marks to guide you wherever you roam, 
Till vou meet with the Craft in their Heavenly Home." 



BY B. B. MCEACHERN. 33 



Slir\di]e^^. 



Affectionately dedicated to Miss Laura Trimble, of Rusk, Texas. This 
poem was suegested by hearing her describe the beauties of nature, 
in a conversation upon the subject of Astronomy. 

It is not for the flowers, uor the rippling of rills 

With their sj^arkling of water so bright, 

Nor the picturesque scenes of the beautiful hills, 

That I weep for the loss of my sight ; 

For the foliage falls from the boughs of the trees, 

And the flowers in their tenderness die. 

And their fragrance is lost on the echoing breeze. 

As the language of love— in a sigh. 

It is not for the smiles of the festival halls, 
Where the songs of the mirthful resound ; 
Nor the ivy that clings to those desolate walls. 
Where traditions and fables abound ; 
For the festival halls shall be dim with dismay. 
And the songs of the mirthful — be lower ; 
And the ivy shall wither and perish away, 
And its place be remembered no more. 

But you talk of the stars and the heavens above, 
And the beauties of nature and light; 
And you speak of sweet faces all radiant with love, 
And I sigh from the loss of my sight ; 
For the eye is the soul, and the soul is the eye, 
With expression too deep to compare ; 
And, O God, when the end of existence is nigh. 
Let thy comforting presence be there. 
5 



34 YOUTHFUL DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 



Let Tliy will upon earth, as in Heaveu, be doue, 

Though Tliy ways I may uot comprehend, 

There are many that gaze on the beautiful sun, 

Who have never been blessed with a friend. 

If I pass through the world without looking on those, 

Who have led me along its dark sod, 

Let me rise out of death, as from gentle repose, 

To behold them as angels of God. 

I am nursing a grief that is hard to ecmtrol, 

A misfortune that is heavy to bear, 

An affliction that lies like a weight on my soul. 

But I cannot — T Avill not despair; 

For there's something within me, that tells me I must 

Be contented with whit I receive, 

And I know the awai«l of a glorious trust, 

Shall be given to thosj who believe. 

I am blind, l)Ut my blindness a blessing may prove; 

I am sad, but my sorrow shall cease 

In the presence of God, by the power of His love, 

And my journey be ended in peace. 

As Bartemius of old, I am trying to grope 

Through the crowd that is passing me by, 

To the Offsprhig of David, the Star of my hope. 

And the light of my soul and my eye. 

If I meet with a few in my pilgrimage here. 

Who are naturally cold and unkind, 

I shall pity the hand that can boast of a tear. 

It has wrung from the eyes of the blind. 

While the rain and the dew are permitted to fall. 

And the rays of the sun to descend. 

May the mercy of God be sufficient, for all 

Who gratefully call Him their friend. 



BY R. B. MCEACHERN. 35 



Be Will Kevei' CoTr^e fioir|e 



This poerr. was fvcoasioned by the death of our dear brother, who was 
accidentally shot iu the city of Jctl'ersoii. Texas, on the 'Jlst of 
May, 1874. My younger brother and 1 on'.y arrived in time to at- 
tend the funeral, and when we retu-ned to Rusk, his mother in 
speaking of him said : " He will never come home any more," 

He will uever come home to our hearth any more, 
But we know that he stands on the opposite shore, 
In the light of the love that the gospel has shed 
O'er the sanctified grave of our beautiful dead ; 
And we feel in our hearts, as they only can do, 
Who have .suflfered the lo.ss of the noble and true ; 
But we trust that when time .shall have lightened our 
That the future will bring us a brighter relief, [grief 

We are trying to hope, while the hearse and the pall 
Are waiting alike for the great and the small; 
For the parting of friends and the breaking of ties. 
And the folding of hands and the closing of eyes, 
Are the scenes that inheritance claims as its due ; 
And we know that the death of our l)rother is true. 
May the sorrow that darkens his happiless home, 
Be exchanged for a crown in the life that's to come. 

We are trying to pray, at the foot of the Cross, 
For the blessing of comfort in all of our loss, 
And the One who is hearing our penitent prayer. 
Will remember His children wherever thev are; 



36 YOUTHFUIi DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 



In the morning of life they shall lean on Hiy arm, 
In the noon of the day He sliall keep them from harm. 
And when evening appears with itssliroud of the sod, 
They shall pass, hy the Avay of Mount Calv'ry, to God. 

We have given up all but the image of him, 

Who was called, by liis mother, " My dear little Jim." 

Out of nine of the links, only four now remain, 

But in Heaven we'll see them united again ; 

For tlie chain is not broken, so recently cleft, 

And tlie angels will gather the fragments that's left. 

And the shards which are scattered all shining shall 

To unite with our bliss in that glorious home, [come. 

We are trying to bear it, but God only knows 
How the current of life is so frequently froze. 
For the ice of the grave on our hearts has been laid. 
And we shrink from the sound of the shovel and spade. 
As a t)ird that is wounded on seeing the rude 
And unpitying fowler who scatters her brood ; 
But we know that in Heanen's eternal domain. 
All the weary shall rest from their labor and jiain. 



BY R. B. MCEACHERN. 37 



3^Vewell to ¥ylei\ 



Farewell, farewell, ye Tyler girls. 
Farewell, ye pure and preeioiis pearls ; 
Farewell, and when the evening throws 
A twilight shadow on the rose. 
That, blushing, laves itself in dew 
Beneath the stars, I'll think of you. 

The Providence that guides nie on, 
Will be to you when I am gone, 
A faithful and protecting friend ; 
And when my fervent in-ayers ascend, 
For Blessings o)i my Choir and Baud, 
I'll tliink of you and J. T. Hand. 

Some advocates become our foes ; 
But there is not a leaf that grows 
Upon a tree, that will comi)are 
With one precisely like it there. 
Thus, while in common men agree. 
They differ in their constancy. 

On Sabbath morning, when you meet 
To mingle all your voices sweet. 
Though strangers fill the vacancy. 
That once was occupied by me. 
They cannot prove themselves more true 
Than I shall ever l)e to von. 



38 YOUTHFUL DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 

And when the opening hymn is sung, 
And music with its silver tongue. 
Has softened every loving heart, 
O, breathe a silent prayer apart 
For one whose voice, in former days. 
With yovu's was heard in songs of praise. 

At midnight, when the bands parade. 
And all go forth to serenade. 
Remember that the stars above. 
Are shining down on those you love, 
And with a heart-warm sympathy 
That knows no change, oh think of me! 

How long shall this protracted pain, 
Of parting with my friends, remain. 
Perhaps I sigh for some who feel 
But little interest in my weal ; 
For prejudice will pick its flaws, 
And persecution owns no laws. 

On Sabbath evenings, when they ring 
The Baptist bell, for those who sing, 
To come and take their places there, 
And Laura fills the organ chair, 
Oh, think of him whose heart is sore. 
Because he meets with tiiem no more. 

"When Ijucy died, we mourned her loss ; 

But she is gone to bear the Cross 

Before us to that sunny shore, 

"Where thousands dwell, and thousands more, 

Are marching on with hymn and palm. 

To sing with Moses and the Lamb. 



BY R, B. MCEACHERN. 39 



And will we ever hear that song, 
Or shall we mingle with that throng, 
Who through their tribulation came,' 
And entered Heaven in Jesus' name? 
Ah ! yes, till death life's banner furls. 
There's room ; God bless the Tyler girls. 

The morning hour of life is l)right, 

But evening merges into night ; 

And as we view the setting sun. 

That emblem of the race we run. 

Who knows but what a sorrow past 

May brighten— "seen through tears at last. " 

Ye, who have stood, with streaming eyes 
And listened to the piteous cries 
Of loving hearts by anguish torn, 
And bleeding, know what 'tis to mourn. 
The grave may boast of temporal gloom. 
But living sorrow— has no tomb. 

It goes with us where ere we go, 
And follows like a fearless foe 
In hot pursuit, with deadly blight, 
And never leaves us, day or night. 
Oh, what reward shall they receive, 
Who cause the innocent to grieve. 

Farewell, ye Tyler girls, farewell ; 

And when in after years ye tell 

Of Charniwood, and tlie friends ye knew 

To be so faithful and so true, 

These lines may tenderly recall 

Some memory that is dear to all. 



40 YOUTHFUL DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 



Belli kd of L(Ove. 



'Tis a cloudless uight, 
And the stars are bright, 

Fixed in their orbs above ; 
And my soul is sad, 

Yet the thought is glad 
That turns to thee, my love. 

In the fragrant breeze 
From among the trees, 

I hear thy gentle tone ; 
And my soul is sad. 

Yet the thought is glad 
That turns to thee alone. 

When the future seems 
As the course of streams 

That wind through sylvan dales 
Oh, believe the power 

Of this holy hour. 
For true love never fails ! 

Speak a gentle word 

To the passing bird. 
Whose song must soon depart ; 

For its wings of gold 
May in future fold 

More tamely round thy heart. 



BY It. B. MCEACHEBN. 4l 



S^ S'ell tlie Wee. 



As fell the tree— so fell the fair ; 
And each had life in every veiu ; 
One groaned, and died without a prayer, 
The other— hoped to live again. 

The body of the tree decayed 
Upon the spot on which it fell ; 
The body of my friend was laid 
Beneath the lillies of the dell. 

'Tis sad to leave the warm embrace 
Of sunny life for sombre gloom ; 
And sad to see thy resting place, 
Dear, youthful tenant of the tomb. 

But 'round the sweet, surviving past. 
Some links of mem'ry shall remain 
Till we, on earth, have breathed our last. 
And love is lost in death's domain. 

We know that tliou hast left the scenes 
Of sickness and mortality. 
But saving grace may be the means 
Of bringing many friends to thee. 

Alas ! 'tis useless to conceal 
The anguish of our mortal strife; 
For death is wedtled to the weal 
Of all who breathe the breath of life ! 



5 



42 YOUTHFUL DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 

The rich, the poor, the proud, the great, 
And all who live beneath the sky. 
Must share alike the comniou fate. 
And when they least expect it — die. 

But there is still a blessing left 
To comfort those who mourn their loss ; 
And when our hearts have been bereft, 
It brings us nearer to the Cross. 

Oh, what a glorious gift is grace ! 
Oh, what a treasure from above; 
It leaves its brightness on the face. 
And fills the soul with heav'nly love. 

'Tis as tlie clouds that went before 
The Pilgrims in the Wilderness ; 
'Twill lead us on from shore to shore, 
And bring us all to perfect bliss. 

Then let us patiently resign 
Our transient hopes when death appears ; 
And on the Savior's breast recline. 
Till God has wiped away our tears. 



BY R. B. MCEACHERN. 43 



I^ the IDky-^piHr^^ of T^ife. 



In the day-spring of life, when our spirits are glad, 

And the myrtle and vine are with foliage clad ; 

When tlie juvenile age of the summer is true, 

And the wings of the morning are dripping with dew, 

Then the face of all nature looks lovely and mild. 

As a star to the eye, or a worhl undeflled. 

By the rivers, the lillies and violets grow. 

And the fight of the sun is resplendently seen 

On the tops of the mountains -all covered with snow. 

While the foot hills are crowned with a beautiful green. 

In the day-spring of life, when the l)reezes are filled 
With the fragrance of flowers, and the butterflies build 
In the jessamine blossoms that open in May, 
And the delicate humming bird twitters its lay. 
Then the friendship we cherish is free'st from guile ; 
And the words which we speak are repaid with a smile. 
Look at nature by night, when the moonbeams descend 
And the brilliant phenomenon brightens the sky ; 
And the river and ocean in harmony blend. 
And you feel that the music of Heaven is nigh. 

In the summer of life, when the days of the year 
Are replete with old age, and the autumn is near. 
When the leaves of the forest are browned with decay, 
And the faces, familiar, are passing away ; 
Then the sickle of death, in the harvest must mow. 
And the fast lading embers of life cease to glow. 
In tlie valley of death, where the shadowy wave. 



44 YOUTHFUL DAYS AND OTHEH POEMS, 



And the gloomy pavilions of darkness are spread, 
Many hands we have pressed, are consigned to the 
grave ; [dead. 

And we know in our hearts, that the loved ones are 

In the sunset of life, when the soul is reprieved, 
With its talents improved, and its vict'ries achieved ; 
When the Great God of nature looks down from above. 
And the angels in Heaven are singing of love; [ed. 
Then, the spirits redeemed, shall with glory be crown- 
Where the deep hallelujahs of nations resound. 
Oh ! ye dark, boundless seas, that encircle the throne. 
And ye deep and vast preludes of nature sublime ; 
When the last feeble impulse of life shall have flown. 
May our spirits inherit that immortal clime. 



S^o^ti'of l^e to ^u0id. 



O ! music, swett, harmonious sound, 
Offspring of purest love divine. 

Thy cadence makes the heart reboUnd, 
And causes banished hope to shine. 

Thy tone is sacred to the ear. 
And pleasant on the moonlit wave ; 

We greet thy cadence with a tear. 
When slowly marching to the grave. 

Harmonious sound, seraphic tone. 
Endow me with celestial powers ; 



BY B. B. MCEACHEBN. 45 



For oft I seek thee, when alone, 
To charm my solitary hours. 

Thy sweet existence is so brief, 
That I can scarcely recognize 

The melody that soothes my grief, 
Before its plaintive echo dies. 

Thus life, like music, is a breath ; 

For when its sad, sad song is sung. 
The last dear words are lost in death. 

And every chord is left unstrung. 

But who, oh ! who would be deprived 

Of music for a single hour ; 
We know the gift has been derived 

From Heaven, and we own its power. 

I often think, when I am sad. 
That I would like to sing away 

My earthly sorrow — and be glad. 
And cheerf'ly mingle with the gay. 

But when I listen to the train 
Of idle words I sometimes hear, 

I call my sadness back again 
And feel contented with my sphere. 



46 YOUTHFUL DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 



}JLy SiiiSp ^^d Seki't. 



When this poor harp and heart of mine 

Have yielded up their trust, 
And friends assemble to consign 

My body to the dust. 
If there is any thing I crave. 

Beyond my present plight. 
It is to fill an honest grave. 

And keep my record bright. 

Why should T fret my life away 

O'er what I can't prevent. 
Since all sufficient to the day 

My sorrow may be sent ? 
He who controls the birds that move 

Above me in their flight. 
Has promised, if I faithful prove, 

To keep my record bright. 

And though I wear upon my face 

The marks of recent tears, 
The frost of death shall leave no trace 

On what my soul reveres. 
Then let me labor to actjuire 

A knowledge of the right; 
And cultivate a pure desire 

To keep my record bright. 



BY R. B. MCEACHERN. 47 



If I have wronged luy fellow -man, 

I know his injured cause 
Shall have a hearing, when my plan 

Of life is full of flaws. 
The ruined ean't support the wrecked, 

No more than day and night 
Can their vicissitudes neglect : 

Lord, keep my record bright. 

What are the motives which impel 

The atheist to shun 
The cemetery in the dell — 

Before his day is done? 
The world's philosophy can shed 

No light upon the tomb. 
And when the infidel is dead. 

His life is lost in gloom. 

How difierently the christian dies — 

Too confident to weep. 
With Heaven in his radiant eyes, 
. He gently falls asleep. 
In faith, upon the Havior's breast 

He lays his weary head. 
And, like a jjilgrim, takes his rest, 

And then we call him dead. 

But when these tenements of ours 

Have crumbled into clay. 
Our spirits, like perennial flowers. 

Shall bloom in endless day. 
Oh ! let us strive to emulate 

Each good example given. 
And meet around the Golden Gate 

Of Paradise, in Heaven. 



48 YOUTHFUIi DAYS AND OTHER POEMS. 



Sid ]V[e G[ood->figl\t. 



Beautiful dark eyed girl of Marshall, 

Singiug so sweetly all the day, 
Can it be true, that you are partial, 

Partial to one that's far away ? 
Listen to me, my dark eyed treasure. 

Singing beneath thy cottage eave, 
Tell me the song affords thee pleasure. 

Bid nie good-night before I leave. 

Can it be true, that you remember 

Parting with one so long ago. 
Beautiful rose bud of December, 

Blowing above the drifting snow ? 
Listen, for when the song is ended, 

Silence will reign beneath thy eave ; 
Think of the heart thou hast befriended. 

Bid me good-night before I leave. 

Beautiful girl, the stars are gleaming 

Brightly above the world below ; 
Dream of the absent, in thy dreaming. 

Bid me good-night before I go. 
Bid me good-night, for I am only 

Waiting to take the coming train , 
Bid me good-night, but dont be lonely 

Darling, for I'll come back again. 



BY R. B. MCEACHERN. 49 



gkdi'ed foQn]^. 



HOLY REST. 



Oh ! I have sighed to gatlier me 

Unto the azure dome 
Of yon 8tar-clad immensity, 

Where sorrows never come. 

The burthen of this lieavy grief 
Seems hard for me to bear, 

But I shall tiiid a sweet relief 
From all my anguish — there. 

What is the world to those who lay 

Their treasures up above ; 
The heart will never pine away 

That looks to (lod for love. 

Lift uj) your hearts, ye desolate, 

His grace to comjjrehend ; 
The world miiy never call you great 

But He will be your friend. 



50 YOUTHFUL DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 



LORD, I COME. 



A HYMN DKDK'ATED TO REV. N. A. DAVIS. 



Lord, with all my heart I eomc — 
Weary, helijles:^ ami opprest. 
Lonely, an! without a home, 
Sighing for eternal rest. 
See tlie tears upon my face. 
And rt'member all my strife: 
Shall I die without Thy grace? 
Die, so near the stream of life? 

I am — as a withered flower — 
On a dreary, dewless plain ; 
But I know Thou hast the power 
To revive my soul again. 
Oh ! remember how Thy son 
Suffered on the Roman tree. 
And in mercy help each one 
Who is looking. Lord, to Thee. 

God has heard thy fervent jirayer. 
Seen the tears upon thy face, 
And will free thee from the snare 
That has kept thee from His grace. 
"I will take thee as thou art. 
And for Jesus' sake forgive ; 
I will touch thy hardened heart. 
With my love, and thou shalt live." 



BY R. B. MCEACHERN. 51 



JEREMIAH AMONG THE RUINS OF JERU- 
SALEM. 



Taken from the lirst chapter of the Book of Lamentations. 

How is the city uow so desolate, [Iviiown ? 

Whose streets were thronged with people widely 
How is she fallen from her high estate, 
And tributary to a foreign throne? 

She weepetli sorely through the silent night, 
And all her tears upon her cheeks remain ; 
Her lovers and her friends have took to tiight. 
And hope for comfort seems to be in vain. 

Judah is gone before the captor's sword 
In sad affliction, as it hath been willed, 
To be in servitude till every word 
Against her evil shall have been fulfilled. 

The ways of Zion mourn. Her solemn feasts 
Are unattended ; and each empty gate 
Swings idly open, and her sighing Priests 
And helpless virgins share a bitter fate. 

Her adversaries have become lier chief 
Tormentors ; and they prosper every day : 
The Lord hath visited lier sins with grief. 
And sent her erring children till away. 

The beauty of her daughter— is no more 
Than what is seen in every withered flower : , 
Her princes — are as harts that go before 
The fierce pursuer, and they have no power. 



52 YOUTHFUL DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 



Jerusalem remembered iu the days 
Of her afliietiou, all that she possessed 
Before the adversaries' mocking gaze 
Was riveted upon her envied rest. 

Jerusalem has sadly turned aside; 
And for her grave offenses been removed ; 
And there is nothing honorable descried 
In her denuded state to be approved. 

Her sin is plainly manifest to all, 
Ami there is no remembrance of her trust: 
O, Lord, behold how great has been her fall, 
And look at Zion — mould'ring in the dust. 

The enemy hath lifted up his hand. 
The heathen in her sanctuary tread ; 
There's desolation in the Holy Land, 
And clouds of wrath upon her altars spread. 

The starving people beg at every door ; 
And they have given all that they possessed 
To buy a little bread. I^ord ! help the poor. 
And in Thy mercy comfort the distressed. 



UNION HYMN. 



Hear the voice of angels pleading, 
Mortal jnan repent and live ; 

While your wounded heart is bleeding, 
God is able to forgive. 



BY R. B. MCEACHERN. 53 



While the vital lanii) is Ijiiriiing' 
Call upon his name aloft — 

Still repenting', still returning, 
Prayers are never said too oft. 

Milder breezes ever blowing 

In a world beyond the sun. 
Say that streams of life are flowing, 

And their waters may be won. 
Oh ! how long procrastinating 

Shall we dwell in idle strife? 
Crowns of glory are awaiting 

Those who seek eternal life. 

Many friends liave left us weeping 

'Round the solitary tomb; 
Other flowers in death are sleeping. 

Others soon shall cease to bloom. 
See the paths of nature guiding 

Rapid waters toward the main, 
And tlie sword of Death dividing 

All that we, as mortals, gain. 

Yet, O yet, from grief refraining. 

Turn and view our home above ; 
For the soul is weak sustaining 

Life without immortal love. 
Smoothly o'er the turbid waters 

Of temptation, with Thy rod. 
Guide Thy erring sons and daughters, 

And in deatli save all, O, God ! 



54 YOUTHFUL DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 



ECHOES FROM THE HARP OF ISAIAH. 



A PARAPHRASE FROM THE XXXVTH CHAPTER. 
I. 

The wilderness in solitude 

Sliall liave a gladsome voice ; 

And where the parching sands intrude, 

The rose vine shall rejoice. 

II. 

Yes, it shall bloom abundantly 
With Sharon's roses crowned ; 
As Carmel in her majesty, 
Or Lebanon profound. 

III. 

The glory of the Lord is grand 
Beyond what fancy paints ; 
But strengthen ye the weakened hand. 
Confirm the feeble saints. 

IV. 

O, speak to those who harbor fear, 
And tell them to be brave ; 
Behold, the recompense is here, 
Ahd God is free to save. 



The blind shall have their sight restored. 
And see the liunian face; 
The deaf shall hear the gracious word 
Of (irod's eternal grace. 



BY R. B. MCEACHERN. 55 

VI. 

The lame shall leap upou the s«)<l 
O'er which he used to crawl ; 
The dumb shall slug the ijraise of God, 
His greatness t<) extol. 

VII. 

The desert shall become a lake, 
And where each dragon lay. 
The reeds and rushes form a brake 
To guard the grassy way. 

VIII. 

And there shall be another road, 
The way of holiness 
That leads us to that bright abode 
Of joy and perfect bliss. 

IX. 

The unclean shall not enter in, 
Nor any evil come 
To mar our happiness with sin. 
In that delightful home. 

X. 

The ransomed of the Lord shall rise 
And leave their dying beds, 
To meet the Savior in the skies 
With joy upon their heads. 



56 YOUTHFUL. DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 



THE PROPHECY. 



Writkni on Cliristmas Day. 

Hail ! sweet, celestial day and morn, 
Wherein the King of Kings was born ; 
I sing to celebrate tlie birth 
Of One whose home is not on earth — 
Who bade the sandy desert bloom. 
Who called up Lazarus from the tomb, 
Wlio, by his wisdom from above. 
Subdued tlie world witli tihal love. 

Oh ! what a nuracle and morn, 
A man— a God »f woman born — 
Tlie angels sung, and Heaven consigned 
" Peace aud good will " to all mankind. 
'Twas His — that In-ight and morning star, 
AVhose sacred light shone from afar, 
Which guided wise men from the East — 
Who came to dine at wisdom's feast. 

Ye messengers of love draw nigh ; 
The world is saved — man shall not die ; 
And ye are honored to ]n'oclaim 
The glorious tidings of his fame. 
Say that a branch from .Jesse's Rod 
Blooms in reality a God ; 
Say that a King is on tlie throne 
Of David, and we shall not moan. 

Go, bear these tidings steeped in tears 
Of mercy, to the neighboring spheres, 



BY R. B. MCEACHERN. 



And bid them in tlioir course resound 
Tlie King- of Kings on eartli is crowned. 
And thou too, Betlilelieni, rejoice, 
For out of tliee shall come a voice, 
A Prince, a Ruler over all, 
Whom out of Egypt I shall call. 

A Nazarene He must be styled. 
The "Lamb of God," the undetiled. 
The Bride and Bridegroom both in one. 
Perfection's Child, God's only Son ; 
And all the nations shall adore. 
And gather 'round Him to implore 
The blessings of eternal days— 
For every tongue shall speak His praise. 

Then none shall say, " Know ye the Lord ! " 
For all shall hear, and read His word. 
" In those days .John the Baptist came," 
His mighty mission to [)roclaim ; 
And shouted with insi)ired command, 
"The reign of Heaven is at hand." 
Prepare the way of Him al)ove, 
"Make straight His path "—reward His love, 

"Then all the regious 'round al)(>ut 
Jerusalem, to Him came out," 
And were baptized in Jordon's tide — 
Save those Avho scorned the way with pride. 
The l)itter cup of death was sjjilt. 
The nnghty temi)le was rebuilt, 
And while the halleluiahs rung 
The Baptist and his brethren snug- 
Great God, it is to Thee we owe 
The tribute of all praise, 
S 



58 YOUTHFUL DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 



For '^i'hou hast blessed us here below, 
Aud gave us length of days. 

Thy saving power, to all, how sweet, 
Where truth and love abound ; 

Thy righteous judgment how discreet. 
Thy wisdom — how profound. 

Such is Thy love, all ruling Power, 
And mercy t'ward mankind, 

Tliat he, though at the eleventh hour, 
Who asks for grace, shall find 

It makes us glad to know that Thou 

Art with us day 'n' day ; 
O, help us Lord to keep our vow, 

And hear us when we pray. 



PARAPHRASE OF THE FIRST PSALM. 



Rewarded is the man whose heart 
Is free from counsels evil born. 
Who with the wicked takes no part. 
Nor sits upon tiie seat of scorn: 

But whose delight is in the Lord, 
Premeditating how to pray, 
Who, trusting in His Holy Word, 
Doth worship God fronr day to day. 

He shall be like a fruitful tree 
Beside the living streams that flow; 



BY R. B. MCEACHERN. 59 

And blest with all prosperity, 

Nor lose his leaves— nor cease to grow. 

Uugodly men will have no name 
In Heaven's holy place of rest ; 
For they, as chaff" within a flame, 
Sluill l)urn, and never more be blessed. 

The Lord, the Holy One of all, 
His sacred seed on earth hath sown ; 
And every fruitless tree shall fall 
And perish from around His Throne. 



REPENTANCE. 



This poem wms suggested after liearinga sermon delivered in the 
Methodist chnrch at lUisk bv the Rev. J K. Street, who fonnded 
his di-c<iu'So upon the 15th verse of the 1st chapter of the gospel 
as recorded by St. Mark. 

" Repent ye and believe :" 

The Kingdom is at hand, 

And when you hear the gospel preached 

Remember this command. 

'' Repent ye and believe:" 

Oh do not disol)ey 

As those who lived before the flood, 

For they were swept away. 

" Repent ye and believe :" 

For slippery is the path 

That many wayward feet htivc worn 

Upon their way to wrath. 



60 YOUTHFUL DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 



"Repent ye and believe :" 

The promise i^ to yoii 

And to your cliildren ; and we know 

That the reward i.s true. 

" Repent ye and believe :" 
And may the Fatlier, Sou 
And Holy Ghost abide witli you 
Until tlie work is done. 



PARAPHRASE OF THE XLIIl P.<ALM. 



.Judge me, O God, and free my soul 
From every vile temptation ; 

Deliver me from unjust men, 
For Thou art my salvation. 

Why go I mourning anil oppressed, 
Offcast from Tliee and Heaven : 

O lead me witli Tliy light and truth, 
Which Thou to num liast given. 

Then to Tliy tabernacle. Lord, 
Before Thy throne of glory, 

I'll praise Thee— yea upon the harp. 
And tell my eartldy story. 

Why art thou cast down, O my soul ! 

And why dismayed within me — 
Trust in the Lord, Whose perfect word 

Is able to redeem thee. 



BY R. B. jrcEACHERN. 61 



MORNIN(; ]»HAVEK.* 



Graciouis Cod, I liave trod 

Many paths in life ; 
Each has been full of sin, 

And of worldly strife. 

Hear my prayei', in the fair 

Morning of my youth, 
For each mind is desiniied 

To relate the truth. 

.Saints eonfess — nothing- less 
Can approach Thee near ; 

Saints bestow nothing more 
Pleasing to Thine ear. 

Let my prayer, through the air, 

To Thy throne ascend ; 
I adore, and imi)lore 

Thee to be my friend. 

When I pray, day l)y day. 

From Thy frugal board, 
Let the wine of divine 

Life on me l)e poured. 

Though the w(n'ld should be hurled 

In a fierj' tiame. 
Still I'll cry, God is nigh. 

Bless His holy name. 

Amen. 



■This is one of my earliest jioenis. 



62 YOUTHFUL, DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 



PARAPHRASE FROM GALATIANS. 



And let us not be weary in well cioing : tnr in due seas'^n we shall 
reap if we faint not."— Galatians, 6th chapter, 9th verse. 

Oh, let us never weary grow 

In doing' what we can 
To help each other here helow, 

For life is hut a span ; 
And when the Savior eonies to i)rove 

And put us to the test, 
The earnest labor of our love 

Is sure to please him best. 

If one of you begins to halt, 

Don't drive liini from liis place. 
Till you have meekly mourned his fault. 

For all have need of grace. 
The persecution of a saint 

Is sharper than a brier, 
And when your younger members faint, 

Don't let their faith expire. 

The l)urdens of each otlier bear, 

And do not be so cold, 
For every heart is full of care, 

If it were only told. 
We often think that we are great, 

But pride is not humane ; 
And what shall l)e our future state 

If we have lived in vain? 

Then let us try to prove our work, 
And sift it from the dross 



BY R. B. MCEACHEKN. 63 

Of idloness; for those who shirk 

Will never share the Cross. 
The sordid gold that we retain, 

To others may descend ; 
But sins, like counterfeits, remain 

And own us to the end. 

Let tliose who are instructed well 

Impart to such as need ; 
And when our human hearts rehel, 

Lord, teach us how to heed. 
" God is hot mocked :" be undeceived, 

For what your hands have sown 
Shall at the Judgment Day be sheaved ; 

The liarvest is your own. 

If planted to the carnal mind, 

Your soul shall rue its trust; 
For all that's mortal is designed 

To perish in the dust. 
If in the spirit, to the Lord, 

Your christian work appears, 
A home in glory shall reward 

You for your toil and tears. 

Then let us all be wide awake 

And in our i)laces found ; 
For Death shall shortly overtake 

Us on his solemn round. 
The Spirit of the Father, Son 

And Holy Ghost agree 
To watch you till the work is done. 

Selaii : so let it be. 



64 YOUTHFUL BAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 



THE LAST WORDS OF MOSES. 



FROM THK BOOK OK DEUTERONOMY. 



The Great Eternal God above 

Has laid His everlasting arm 

Around thee with a tender love, 

To shield thee from approaching harm. 

And thou shalt dwell in peace, alone. 
Where heaven's most precious dews descend, 
And God will watch thee from His Throne, 
And be thy never failing friend. 

O, hajipy Israel, doubly blest! 
O, people who is like to thee? 
Thy gentile foes shall not molest 
If thou wilt keep thy constancy. 

Thus Moses l»reathed his last adieu, 
And Joshua, the son of Nun, 
Was chosen leader, to pursue 
The foe, till Canaan's land was won. 



BY R. B. MCEACHERN. 65 



fiiinioi'ou^ f^oeiT)^^. 



FAITH, HOPE AND CHARITY. 

A trio of young ladies agreed among themselves to Ije called Faith 
Hope and (Charily. 

Miss Faith is formed as rudo and vouo-h^ 
As ragged rocks upon a hlutt" 
That l)eetles o'er some barren phiin 
Where vegetation dies for rain. 
Her voice is like a blowing liorn, 
And every word she speaks a thorn ; 
And from the desert of her heart, 
The thistle and the bramble start. 

Miss Hope is of a different style, 
And on her face she wears a smile 
So l)right that admiration kneels 
To worship what its light reveals. 
Her voice is like a silver stream 
Of music tlowing through a dream ; 
And from her heart petitions rise. 
For blessings from beyond the skies. 

Miss C'harity has passed away, 
And left a record clear as day. 
She had a brief career on eartli, 
And died before we knew her wortb. 
With folded hands, beneath this stone 
Miss Lucy Thompson sleeps alone ; 
But (iod, in whom she placed her trust, 
Will raise her bodv from the dust. 



66 YOUTHFUL DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 



TO DE. 



My friend, we've labored long enough 

lu single harness here, 
To know the road is very rough — 

Suppose we change our gear. 

This up-hill business, all through life, 

Will never \Vin us fame, 
And, De, if you will get a wife, 

I'll try to do the same. 

Your arni is stroiip, your heart is true, 
And in your manly breast, 

There is a love that will not do 
To perish unpossess'd. 

Look all around you at the girls 

80 tasteful and refined ; 
And when you see their sunny curls. 

Tell me, for I am blind ! 

But that is neither here nor there — 
It merely slipped my pen — 

Select you one among the fair. 
And I shall say. Amen. 

If she refuses to become 
The handsome Mistress De ; 

Don't make your residence a liome 
For bachelors like jue. 

But go and make another speech. 
With eloquence and power. 



BY R, B. MCEACHEBN. 67 



Au(i let the grapes you fail to reach 
Reniain — they may be !<oiir. 

Be very earefiil when you choose, 

To find the one that suits; 
For some grow tired of lacing shoes, 

And have to wear the hoott;. 

I do not say that this is true 

Of any one we know ; 
For all our girls are soft as dew. 

And pure as drifted snow. 

There's little then for one to fear, 
Whose life has been discrCet ; 

And she who weds a bachelor. 
Will make his Joy comiilete. 

We'll celebrate your honeymoon 

As one of great renown ; 
We'll turn December into June, 

And 'luminate the town. 

Aside from every other joke. 
Stand up and bravely face 

The music, and put on the yoke 
With dignity and grace. 

I told you plainly wliat I'de do, 

If you would get a bride ; 
And now the question rests with you, 

At leisure to decide. 

But do not make this leisure long, 

Or I shall cease to wait. 
And join the matrimonial throng. 

And leave vou to vour fate. 



68 YOUTHFUL DAYS AND OTHEK POEMS, 



charlip: and his little neighbors. 



Miller has a bouncing baby 
Two and twenty inches tall ; 

And you wont believe it, may -be, 
But the boy has learned tosciuall. 

He's a handsome little yeller, 
Petted by the family group ; 

And he snulfles through his smeller 
Every time he takes the croup. 

He is perfectly deliglited 

When the lamp is by his bed ; 

But he often grows excited 
When tliey cover up his head. 

He can rock within his cradle, 
And he laughs with hearty zest ; 

He can eat without a ladle. 

And they feed him with the breast. 

He is very fond of singing, 

And in music he'll excel ; 
You can hear his voice a ringing 

To the "Cherokee Hotel." 

Hobbie's song is quite sonorous, 
And his cry is more acute ; 

But when Lena joins the chorus 
Vocal Bal)y-street is mute. 

You may talk about your drawling 
Organ hymns, and fancy chants ; 



BY R. B. MCEAC'HERN. 



But when ( harlie Newton's hawliiijj 
Tlumdor's not a civfumstance. 

I could tell of many others 

But my muse mus^t be disereet: 

Tongs, and brooms, and angry mother.* 
Are unpleasant things to meet. 

I would rather face the fury 
Of the fiercest storms that rise. 

Than to stand before the jury 
Of an angry woman's eyes. 



GEORGE NEELY. 



He passed down the street, with a glass in on<' baud imd n 
the other, singing: 

Some folks deny, 

With faces wry, 

The privilege of tasting ; 

But this shall hardly be our fault. 

For we do dearly love the malt, 

And hate to see it wasting. 

'Tis Christmas day. 

And we are gay 

Beyond anticipation ; 

For good old Rusk is free again, 

And we are glad to see the reign 

Of peace throughout the nation. 



70 



YOUTHFUL DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 



When man was made, 

His heart was staid 

Upon a little garden; 

But Eve came in and looked about, 

And when a serpent snaked her out 

She had to sue for pardon. 

And since that time. 
Through evej^y clime. 
We've all been rebel rangers : 
Some make their living selling rags 
And sundries packed in paper bags, 
And some have joined the Grangers. 



HUNTERS OF CHEROKEE. 



DEDICATED TO W. T. LONG. 



Lawyer Mullins, we are going, 
Come and i|uickly join the cliase, 

Hounds are howling, horns are l)Iowing- 
Here's a stand— now take your place. 



Aycock, Taylor, John T. Murray, 
And McDugald are before — 

Hurrah ! we are in a hurry. 

And the sport will soon be o'er. 



BY R. B. MCEACHERN. 



While tlie leaves and sticks are crackiug 
As his courser takes the round, 

Ginger, Tip and Davis tracking. 
Shout that Long is on the ground. 

Col. Anderson is standing 
In the thicket near the knob, 

On an eminence commanding. 
Waiting patiently for Bob. 

"And the horn sang out," says Whiting, 
" When I stopped to hark the game, 

And the chase grew more exciting, 
As I took my fatal aim." 

" He who has an empty pocket," 
Quoth the Col., " cannot spree ; " 

Then hurrah for Davie Crockett 
And the boys of Cherokee. 
Bring up the snake medicine, boys." 



RATS. 



I do believe I've got the wakes, 

And lost the power of sleeping; 
For night comes on, and day-light breaks, 

And still I hear the creeping 
Of those infernal rats that dwell 

Al)ove me in the ceiling : 
I wish that they were all in — well 

They think I have no feeling. 



YOUTHFUIi DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 



I know that it is wrong to curse, 

And those who do shall rue it ; 
But is it not as bad — or worse — 

To think and not to do it? 
Oh! for a hundred thousand eats. 

Whose teeth have all been tested. 
To eat the long and short tailed rats, 

By which I am molested. 

They scamper up and down the wall. 

And there is not a ratter 
At Palestine — within my call — 

To stop their squealing clatter. 
O, Collie, bring your barking pup 

And see my situation, 
Or I shall soon be gobbled up 

Without an exclamation. 

Rouse all the neighbors ; call up Potts, 

And shout for Captain Ganunage. 
Be quick— the rats are casting lots 

Without the fear of damage. 
I hear their depredating tread. 

The hateful, musty goffers ; 
They're closing up around my bed 

As thick as Palmer's loafers. 

O where is Pickens gone to-night, 

And what's ))ecome of Macon? 
Call some one — murder ! — bring a light — 

Alas, I am forsaken ! 
The band, with crape around their hats. 

Will seek the cemetery. 
And all of me that's left by rats. 

They'll charitablj' bury. 



BY K. B. MCEACHERN. 73 



MILLER ELLIS. 



Oh! Miller Ellis lia' a boy, 

And I am gang- to greet the toy 

Wi' sic a little hand : 

My heart wad beat 

Wi' joy to greet 

A Scotchman in the land. 

Now, Miller, thou wilr ha' te nnrse; 

For Ellen dinna like the firs 

O' sic a little lad. 

I pity thee 

With sympathy, 

And yet it makes me glad. 

Of a' the things I had to learn 

The three worst were to nurse, and cliurn. 

And scour candlesticks : 

A crying child 

Wad run one wild 

When a' these laliors mix. 



MISS BONNIE Mod. 



I am a roving Scottish lad 
And my hame is in auld ( lierokee ; 
But when my heart wi' grief is sa<l 
I will think of Miss Bonnie McD. 



10 



74 YOUTHFUL DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 



Miss Bonnie McD. 

Is tlie lass for nie : 
Oh, who wad ua loe sic a claim ; 

For her voice is sweet 

And her manners comjilete, 
And I'll yie all I liae for the same. 

Amang the girls o' our state, 
I niver can loe but ane and thee: 
Shrill winds may blau but I loe Kate 
And the little Miss Bonnie McD. 

Miss Bonnie iMcD. 

Is the lass for me: 
Oil,' who wAd na loe sic a claim ; 

For her voice is sweet 

And her manners comji; 'te, 
And I'll gie ail I hae for the same. 



MY BLACK CAT, SATAN. 



I liave a black cat, and the thief 
Has eat so many pounds of bi-ef 

That he has learned to bellow. 
Perhaps you don't believe it, l)e, 
But come and spend a night witli me. 

And hear the clever fellow. 

Olivia says that slie regrets 
My fondness for sucli ugly pets. 
And drives lum from the room. 



O, husbaiul, if in futiu-e days 
You should her Scottish teuiper raise, 
Prepare to meet the broom. 

A lady who will tight a cat 
For sleepiug iu her Sunday hat, 

Is not so much to blame ; 
And I am willing to extend 
The privilege to every friend, 
Who does not know his name. 



76 YOUTHFUL, DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 



^i^dellkneou^ l^oeri]^. 



SONG OF THE BEAUTIFUL DREAM. 



O, come to my soul iu a beautiful dieam, 

On the musical wiugs of the night ; 
Yes, come as a star with a radiant gleam, 

From the fount of eternity's light ; 
And if in this cold world you claim as your owu 

One object that merit endears. 
Oh ! think of the cedar that shaded the stoue 

AVliere in childliood we mingled our tears. 

The flowers are all gone, and tlie witliering blast, 

And the storm of the autumn are there : 
Tliey may rage, but they cannot destroy the jjast, 

Nor subdue me with sullen despair ; 
F'or while T reflect on the kindness of those 

Whose friendship no change can dissever, 
I'll think of the debt that my gratitude owes. 

And love tlieju sincerely forever. 

My heart is a fountain of sadness to-(Uiy, 
And my soul is familiar with grief; 

For everything beautiful passes away, 
And the remedy yields no relief. 



BV R. B. MCKACIIKRX. 



As the wild, \varhliii,ti miiistrclm of nature rcturu 

In the twilight t>l" ilay, to rejKJse, 
So man g leth down to oblivion's urn, 

Forgotten by all — but his foes. 

Then come to my soul in a beautiful dream, 

On the musical wings of the night; 
Yes, come as a star with a radiant gleam, 

From the fount of eternity's light ; 
And if in this cold world you claim as your own 

One object that merit endears ; 
Oh ! think of the cedar tliat sluided the stone 

Where in childhood we mingled our tears. 



ACROSTIC. 



Following on, we're following on. 
Loving and longing for those who are gone, 
Owning with sorrow that life is a breath, 
Restless, and few of us reaily for deatli ; 
Edging the valley of shadow and gloom, 
Neariug the portal that leads to the tomb. 
Coming — yes coming, by night and by day : 
Everything mortal must perish away. 
Twilight has spriidvled the gold of the west— 
Under the willows to brighten thy rest; 
Calndy the night in its l)eauty has come. 
Kindly the angels have welcomed thee home 
Ever to dwell in their hai)i)y abode. 
Reigning in glory and worshipping (lod. 



78 YOUTHFUL DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 



ANGEL AMONG THE FLOWERS. 



O, henutiful spirit, among tiie tlowors, 

Sporting thy life away,' 
Live not for the love of thy njsy bowers, 

Which bloom but to decay. 
But live for a world of holier light, 

Shining beyond the tonil). 
There the glory of God obscures the night, 

Tlicri- plant thy fadeless l)lo(jni. 

O, beautiful spirit, the vine clad streams. 

Fragrant and fairly shown. 
Are passing, like thee, to a land that seems 

As boundless and unknown. 
Live for the hope of a heavenly bliss, 

Spirit of light and air. 
Nor for the love of a world like this. 

Thy home of weary care. 



THE TWO SISTERS. 



I know two sisters who are fair 

And gentle and demure ; 
And in their loving eyes they wear 

A lustre that is pure ; 
Pure as the light of silver showers 

Among the golden isles 
Of hai)py childhood ; and the llowers 

Are brightened bv their smiles. 



BY R. B. MCEACHERN. 



Their voices are iu uuisou, 

Their aspirations high ; 
And when tlieir mission here is done, 

They'll sing beyond the sky. 
The songs of angels are sublime, 

And as they softly come 
To us across the sea of time, 

They bring us nearer home. 

'Tis sweet to contemplate the past 

With all its pleasant train 
Of tender memories, for they last 

VViiile life and love remain ; 
And when the hopes that we've pursued 

Are given to decay, 
The night of death shall be subdued, 

And lost in endless day. 

As morning rises o'er the gloom 

Of earth (in dewy tears) ; 
As vegetation casts its bloom 

Before the fruit appears ; 
So, "in like manner we must fall," 

In order to obtain 
The blessing that awaits us all. 

Where saints and angels reign. 

The transient beauty of the face 

Our fajicy may control, 
But give to me that native grace 

Whose merit wins the soul. 
Be mindful where you place your trust. 

There's many a storm to brave ; 
The idols of this world are dust, 

And perish in the grave. 



80 YOUTHFUL BAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 



Sweet sisters, may your pathway be 

With lillies overgrow u, 
As eiiibleius of your purity — 

So iuuoceutly sliowu : 
And when your day of life departs, 

His promises to prove. 
May God reward your faithful hearts 

With everlastins; love. 



THE OLD YEAR. 



RESPF.CTFUI.I.Y DEDICATED TO 5IESSRS. EWING A HUNTER, EDITORS OF 
THE "PALESTINE ADVOCATE." 



Old year, the hour is nigh at hand : 
The shadows of the night have spread 

Thy funeral pall o'er sea and land. 

And time will soon ])ronounee thee dead. 

Yes, thou shalt die, and take thy place 
xVmong those crowded sepulchers, 

Whose adamantine walls encase 
The relics of six thousand years. 

O, what a grave of human woe ; 

And what a record shall there be 
Against us in this world below, 

When we are in eternity! 



BY B. B. MCEACHERN. SI 



The first was beautiful and bright : 
The morning stars did sweetly sing, 

The angels shouted with delight, 
To see a world from nothing spring. 

The second saw a lovely paii- 
In perfect innocence appear ; 

The third beheld them in despair, 
And marked the falling of a tear. 

The fourth a sadder scene relates, 
For jealousy, by sin's device, 

Unlocked the happy garden's gates. 
And death api>eared in Paradise. 

The fifth contained a promise dear, 
And Mercy tnade a heavenly shrine. 

And Etioch left this mortal sphere 
To walk with God in realms divine. 

But when the peo])le turned aside, 
And ceased to keep their sacred vows. 

The ocean poured its angry tide 
Around the loftiest moinitains' lirows. 

And then it ro.se, by tempest toss'd 
Above the trees, till wave met wave. 

And all who lived, but eight, were lost 
Witliin i)ne common watery grave. 

The years passed on, and prophets came 
To elevate the human race — 

The people laughed their (need to shame. 
And stoned them in the market-place. 

11 



82 YOUTHFUL. DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 



At length a brighter star arose 

To comfort Judah in liis loss ; 
He met His fate in calm repose, 

And died upon a Roman cross. 

The blood tliat trickled from tliat tree 
And fell npon the rocks Itelow, 

Was shed alike for you and me, 
And only God such love can show. 

Behold the strength of empires jiroud 
And see the nations of tlie earth — 

Tlu'V \ anisli as a passing cloud, 

And die while others have their birtli. 

Thus, while this globe its course lias run 
And Aph and Perihelion made 

In many a circuit 'round the sun, 
Have men and monuments decayed. 

Ikit that atoning lilood sliall live 
Wliile generations rise and fall, 

For God is willing to Ibrgive, 
And Christ has died to save us all. 

Silence! the hand is pointing near — 
The time is almost up. Look ! look ! 

Oh, save us through the dying year ! 
'Tis dead, and Dod has sealed tlic book. 

There's many a hand we've warmly prest, 
And many a heart that shared oiu- trust. 

And many a brilliant eye at rest 
Within "the cold and silent dust. 



BY R. B. McKACIll•;H^. 83 

It nuikt's lue sad to c'onti'iui)late 
The changes which are yet to eoiiie ; 

But if you go before lue, wail — 
I'll try to meet yovi nil at home. 

We know not what a year may do 

For those we love so tenderly , 
lint if our aims in life are true, 

We shall not want for eonstaney. 

And wlien the last long call is nuide, 
That to us each shall here be given ; 

Oh! meet the summons undismayed. 

And pass through death to life in Heaven. 



OUll DELINQUENTS. 



Speak of them pleasantly, mention the same 
Kindly to those M'ho have eherisheil their fame 
Never let anger your duty pr(>vent. 
Many are wayward — l>ut some will re}ienl. 

Sin is a hollow-eyed hound of desi)air, 
Howling and harking at all that is fair ; 
Pntwling around about every one's yard. 
Seeking for those who are off of their giuii'd. 

Hiding his weapons in liottlen and kegs. 
Clothing the widows and orphans in ragn; 
Calling, in language alluring, to men, 
Dj"ag;fjng them down to ;) horrible <l('n. 



84 YOUTHFUL DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 

Cursing the stroug and destroying the Aveak, 
Railing tlie righteous and mocking the meek. 
Oh ! for an eye that is single to view 
Something more useful in life to pursue. 

Shade is averse to the growth of a field, 
Weeds are cut down on account of their yield, 
But if these things are permitted to stand, 
Whom shall we blame for the blight (tf the land? 

Look at the cause of the evil you see, 
search for the root of the poisonous tree, 
Cut it in pieces — and then you will find 
Work for a pure and unprejudiced mind. 

Sin is an evil, and evil is harm, 
Down in the city, or out on the farm ; 
And in whatever condition it lives, 
Sorrow's the only reward that it gives. 

Many a poor and unfortunate one 
May l)e reclaimed as the prodigal son : 
Never despond on this side of the grave, 
God is forgiving and able to save. 

While there is life, there is hope of reform, 
Where there is faith, it will keep the heart warm. 
God in His mercy has taught us to pray — 
Plead for the lambs who are going astray. 

Some are enticed to abandon the fold 
Dazzled away by the glitter of gold ; 
Others are striving their fancy to please, 
Careless, and living in Zion at ease. 



BY R. H. MCEACHERX. 80 

Are there not jvust'l** around on the hucli, 
Watching for those wlio are absent from church ? 
Oh, ye dehnquents, 'tis time to heware, 
Time to return to your pLiees of i)rayer. 

Loolv at your niinisters, iionest and good, 
Preacliing to pews, and to henelies of wood, 
Whik' you are at home in your good, easy cliairs, 
Hardening your liearts and neglecting your prayers. 

Tliink of your duty. Tlie harvest is white— 
Can't you contribute one poor little mite? 
Come to the rescue, and come witli a heart 
Willing and ready to bear any part. 

Come, for the banner of Christ is unfurled. 
Come, and win others away from the world ; 
Conxe, for the Savior invites you to come; 
Come, and the christians will welcome you honje. 

Ye who have traveled the wilderness route, 
(Jorne in your confidence, come without doubt, 
Come, and as pilgrims together we'll go 
Where the Redeemer His ransonu'd shall know. 



THE TWO FRIENDS. 



We were friends in tbe palmy old days of the past. 
When the present was hid from our view ; 
But we know that the chill of a wintry l)last 
Is the prelude to summer and dew. 



86 YOUTH FUIi DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 

We were frieuds iu the beautiful inoriiiuji- that broke 
O'er the pathway we traveled ho Ioujj: ; 
And our parting is sad, but the heaviest stroke 
May be lii>hteiied and turned into s()u<.v. 

We were friends in tlie evening tliat l)rougiit a res})iter 
To the sick and the suffering and i)oor ; 
And you told nie of worlds, in tiie sky of the niglit, 
As we sat on the step at the iloor. 

We'll l>e friends till the friendsliip of eartli lias grown 
And our forms have l)een laid iu the dust ; [cold, 

For a heart that is faitliful is better than gold, 
And I know you are true to your trust. 

We'll be friends in that l»eautiful iiavi-n of rest, 
Where these tears sliall l)e wiped from our eyes ; 
And we'll sing with tlie angels and dwell with the 
Where the love of the soul never dies. [blest, 



WE SHALL MEpyr AGAIN. 



Farewell, dear friend, farewell ; 

It hlls my heart with pain 
To hear thy solemn funeral knell. 

But we shall meet again. 

Yes, we shall meet and sing 
A song of glad suri)rise, 

Where life is an eternal thing, 
And friendship never dies. 



BY R. B, MCEACHEKN. 



Ah, little did I think, 

When last we parted here, 
That thou wert standing' on the l>riiik 

or life, witli death so near. 

Thy fate reealleth one 

"Whose precious life and pure, 
By eruel hands at Jetterson, 

Was taken premature. 

Our loss — his o-ain may he — 

But in our iguoranee, 
'Tis hard foi- mortal eyes to see 

The ways of Providence. 

The fountains of my grief 

Are full and running o'er : 
Thy bright career, alas, how brief! 

Dear friend, thou art no more. 

The merit of thy worth 

Thy loved ones shall retahi ; 
And when they leave this lonesome earth, 

Unite with thee again. 

'Tis sad to hid adieu 

To scenes that cannot last. 
But after death we shall renew 

The friendship of the past. 

Ves, we slial! all rejoice, 

Through ages yet to come. 
And hear the Savior's loving voice 

Say : welcome, welcome home. 



YOUTHFUL DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 

Oh, mortals, men of clay, 

On what do you rely? 
Remember that there is a day 

In which we all must die. 

Tlie hour nuiy be at hand. 

For ileath awaits us all ; 
And who among us liere shall stand 

Prejiared to meet the call? 

80 syjnpathize with those 

Who need thee in their grief. 
That when tliy life is at its close. 

Thy soul mav find relief. 



VER8ES COMPOSED AT THE GRAVE OF A 
LITTLE CHILD. 



Let not the brazen sound of bells be heard 
When I am sleeping in the lonesome grave. 

For memory, far more sacred than the word, 
Can twine a chaplet for the dying brave. 

The air nuide solemn by the sounding bell. 
Brings forth a deluge of unnumbered tears ; 

Which like the fioods of tribulation swell, 
Presenting death with all its gloomy fears. 

Our fettered souls can rty more swift than sound, 
When free'd from this corporeal mass of clay. 



BY B. B. MCEACHEBN. 89 



And through the azure vaulted skies resound 
The glorious promise of au endless day. 

Then let eaeli soul prei)are to pay the debt, 
Whose penalty we all must undergo; 

B'or every star, however bright, must set. 
And life itself must ebb, tlieu calmly How. 

The little form nuiy slowly mould away, 
But that immortal spark of sinless youtii 

Shall light the sunbeams of an eiuUess day, 
And add a new reality to truth. 

In humble verse I sing thee to repose, 
And breathe my eadenee o'er thy narrow bed 

The lily pale is struggling with the rose, 
And infant l)eauty sleeps among the deinl. 

(Jast deep your anchor on the sea of life. 
And soon your honest calling will appear ; 

For heaven is exempt from mortal strife, 
And Goil's eternal blessings linger near. 



BUSH'S BEAU. 



I insert Uiis poom morely ns an cxfimple of my ciirliost nttemptsnt 
versilifatinn. 

One evening on the i)ublic sciuare, 

When Rusk was in its i)rinie. 
The boys desired tiuU Bush's bear 
Should have a lively tinie. 
112 



90 YOUTHFUL DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 

So all the dogs for leagueis around 

Were gatliered to the fray, 
But hruiii sat upon the grouiul 

And thought tliey came to play. 

A shaggy, yellow cur was first 

And foremost to assail. 
The hear received him hrotherl}', 

Because he had no tail. 

The second was a dog of sense, 

And easy to control. 
He fougiil tlie foe in self defense. 

And lost his under jole. 

The third was hraver than the first 

Or second in the strife. 
He fought for fame, and fared the worst 

Because he lost his life. 

At this the people gave a shout, 
And hissed from where they stood — 

The canine forces faced ahout, 
And made a raid for blood. 

It was a simultaneous charge, 
And as they came to blows. 

The chain gave way and let at large 
The bear among his foes. 

He tilled the air witli tiying tails 

And feet and broken ears, 
And ]jut to silence all the wails 

Of those outlandish curs. 



BY B. B. MCEACHERN. 91 



This story (eachos us to own 

The value of a hear, 
In every towu wliere pups are grown 

And tists are never rare. 

Keineniher tliat tlie patli of life 

Ts filled with many ho<j^s ; 
And if you wish to keep fr<»in strife, 

Avoid the haunts of doys. 



JN MEMORIAM. 



Two sisters, Misses .S(ie ami Nura McKellar, were attemiitiiis to cross 
the Ncohes river, near .Saunders' Mill, iiH'herokee eouiity. The 
servant boy. not knowi^ng the depth of the strcan\ drovethe ba- 
rouehe into iwe've feet water, when its Hoo<ls rushed in, and the 
sisters Hoatcd out wpou ilie current. The former caught to the 
limb of a tree, and hung there for an hour, till some one came to 
her rescue. While thus suspended she witnesse<l her darling sister 
Nora perish in the waters. The surviving sister was .siibsci|uentlv 
married to Capt. B. N. Boren, of Tyler. 

" Save me, O God : for the waters are come in unto my soul." 

"I sink in deep mire, where there is no staiuling : 1 am eonie into 
deep waters, where the floods overflow me." 

Neehes river ! Neches river ! 

Death is in thy darkened tide ; 
And T near thee with a sliiver 

More of an<>uish than of i)ri(le ; 
With a feelinfi: sadder, deeper 

Thau I ever knew hefore, 
For a pale and voieeless sleeper 

Lost amid thy reckless roar. 



!>2 YOUTHFUIi DAYS AND OTHER POKMS, 



Whisper to tlio water lily — 

Tell tlie Avild flowers of the wood 
How she struggled with tlie chilly 

Rush of the surroundiug Hood ; 
For she loved tliose leaves of gladness 

As the solace of her gloom, 
And as emblems of our sadness, 

Let us lay them on her tomli. 

Never till a seed is planted 

Tan its real wortli be known ; 
Never till the heart has granted 

It, can sympathy be sliown. 
There is tenderness of feeling 

In whatever brings relief. 
And a comfort in revealing 

Tiie siucei'ity of grief. 

1 have seen tliree sisters carried 

From tlie tliresliold to tlie hearse, 
And have tliought as each was buried 

That no sorrow could be worse; 
But the grief of tluit snrvivor 

Is superior to mine ; 
God, in mercy, O, revive her 

Soul, that it nuiy not repine. 

Be her comforter in sorrow — 

Be her life in every pluise ; 
Be tiu' snnsliine of to-morrow 

To tlie coining of her days ; 
For the glorious fruition 

Of a (rod-Jike sympatliy 
Is the meekness and contrition 

Of a heart that turns to Tliee. 



BY R. B. MCEAOITERN. 08 



1 THANK vol FOR THAT ONE KIND WORD. 



I thank you tor that oiu' kiiul word — 
It is the first that I liavi' lieard 

.SiiR'o frieiKls hecaine so tVw : 
It teat'ht'S me M'heii I i*etieet 
Upon their coldness and neglect, 

That you are not untrue. 

()ur noiji-hi>ors are not always known 
By what they say, Itut we should own 

And sympathize with those 
Who try to do the best they can, 
For patience iu au honest man 

Will overcome his foes. 

The sun goes down upon tlie wrath 
Of such as never weed tlieir path, 

Nor free their feet from strife ; 
But you possess the blessing — health. 
And have within your breast the wealth 

Of everlasting life. 

We know tiiat wiiat wc l)uild t(j-day, 
To-niorrow may l)e torn away, 

But all our thoughts are free. 
And whether written or concealed, 
They will return and be revealed 

Iu God's eternity, 

I saw a little floweret fade, 
And yet I did not feel dismayed, 
But knew tliat it was l)lessed ; 



94 YOUTHFUL, DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 

For my oxiu'rieiieo — tlioiiifh young- 
Has found a thought that, with tin; tongut-, 
Can iioViT he expressed. 

luconiprehensihle thou art 

O, mystery of the hunuiu lieurt. 

As darkness to tlie eye : 
Pavilions are thy tapestry ; 
And gloomy oceans form the spray 

That clouds thy moral sky. 

I've seen the hrilliant sun go down, 
And leave its melancholy frown 

Upon the cheek of night : 
Thus friends — Alas ! like days — dei)art, 
Whom I liave loved with all my heart — 

Great Spirit, he their light : 

And I will waiuler on, alone — 
Couteuted with the kintluess shown 

By others — while I live. 
Those who are "faithful to the end" 
Shall tiud an everlasting Friend, 

With mercv to forgive. 



EMMA. 



Emma, keep your youthful heart 
Free from Cupid's i)iercingdnrt. 
For he oft at random hurls, 
Wounding half the pretty girls 



BY R. B. MCEACHERN. 95 



lu the neio-liborhood arouiui ; 
And 'tis, better to be drownecl — 
Like a kitten iu a creek — 
Than to be in love a week 
Witli a man who never tliinks 
Ifann will (-((nieof wliat lie drinks, 

I have often heard it f^aid : 

" It were l)etter to be dead, 

Than unfortunately wed, 

And eoini)elled to live in dread." 

Ennna, this may all be true, 

But I humbly trust that you 

May be fortunate enough 

To be guided 'round the rough 

Places in this world of ours, 

By a pathway strewn with flowers. 

Think, oh ! think, how much depend? 
On the faithfulness of friends ; 
And in telling what you've heard, 
Try to use the very word 
That your author first employed. 
Or the sense may be destroyed. 
And the meaiung understood 
Differently from what it should ; 
Thus, to make the matter sure, 
Always keep your conscience pure. 

Yes, rememl)er in ycnir youth 
How to love and value truth. 
So that your declining days 
May l)e hallowed by the i)raise 
And approving smiles of those 
Who will watch you to the close 



90 YOUTHFUL DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 



Of your briglit existence here, 
And within another sphere 
Bid you, as a wortliy guest. 
Welcome to eternal rest. 

There all tears shall cease to floM- ; 
And your loving heart will know 
Something of the joy they feel, 
Who in happy union kneel 
'Round the throne in circles bright, 
Never more to disunite, 
Nor to hear the last good-bye 
Of a friend that's called to die ; 
And your soul's fruition be 
Life and immortalitv. 



AN INVENTORY: OR THE FAMILY WITH 
WHOM I ROARDED. 



There's Florence, and Alice, and Katy Rosene, 
And Ellie — a lively young lad of sixteen — 
And Bettie, and Laura, and Sallie, the gay. 
And Julia, and Pauline, and sweet little May ; 
The father and mother the circle complete ; 
And govern their family witli wisdom discreet. 

How pleasant it is, at the close of the day, 
To hear their sweet voices in song or at play. 
.Some swing on a rope they have fastened to trees. 
While Mamie plays " mumble the peg " — down on her 
And others are busy around the hot stove, [knees— 
]*re])aring for those whom they tenderly love. 



BY B. B. MCEACHEBN. 97 



No chair i^s made vacant; no shadow has come 

To (hirkcn the sky of their heautiful lionie. 

They meet witli eacli otlier around the same lx>ard 

And go on the 8al)hatli to hear the same Mord ; 

And often, assemhied together at even, 

They siug of tlie .Savior, and talk about lieaveu. 

Oil ! God, there is room ; there are mansions prepared, 
And many, through Jesus, Thy blessings have sliared ; 
• And many have prayed, and l)een answered in prayer ; 
Grant Thou that tliis family united may share, 
Encircled and saved in the arms of Thy love, 
The joy that is waiting the faithful above. 
Residence of C. A. Sterne, Palestine, June 25, 1875. 



WATCHING. 



" Watchman, tell us of the night." 
The hour is twelve, and we are near 
Assembled 'round this litter here 
In token of our love for one 
Who leaves a daughter and a son. 
With many frieiuls and relatives, 
To mourn that she no longer li\'^s. 

The hour is one, and now a breath 
Is floating through tliis room of death, 
And gently toying with the pall 
That hides her features from us all — 
As some good angel, kindl.y sent. 
To guard the pure and innocent. 
13 



98 YOUTHFUI. DAYS AND OTHER POEMS. 



The hour is two: the flouds eclipse 
Tlie stars, and deatli lias sealed her lips. 
Oh, (H)uld her ehildreu hut have iieard 
Tl>e aecent of one i)arting word, 
Before her spirit " took its flight," 
Thev would not feel so sad to-night. 

The hour is three, and all is still ; 
But soon, U])on yon neigliltoring hill, 
Tiie sounding shovel and the spade 
A narrow dwelling will have made; 
And we must watch until they lay 
This lifeless form Ixneath the elay. 

The hour is four, and still she sleeps, 
Wliile every ^ye its vig;l keeps; 
l»ut (Jod has hid us not to fear, 
And wiped away the last sad tear 
That ever shall hedew her face, 
And called her home to his embrace. 

The liour is five: the shadows break. 
And purple morning comes to wake 
The cheerful minstrels of the grove ; 
But silent is the voice we love. 
And silently we take our leave, 
(iod bless the liearts that sadly grieve. 

Ye who beside the grave have stood 

And seen the useful and the good 

Let down beneath the common sod. 

Oh ! lift your souls in prayer to (lod. 

And ask for blessings to be shed 

O'er those who mourn their precious dead 



BY K. B. MCEACKKKN. 9U 



CAl.I.KI) TO REST. 



Two littlf liaiids are tbided up, 
As lillirs oil tlu' l>reast of Mpriiitr ; 

Two littU' lips liavf drained the cup 
Of l)itteruess, witliout its stiiii:. 

Two little eyes that niiji^iit iiave heeii 
The lifiht ol" some devoted heart, 

Are taken from this world of sin, 
To heain in hrighter oiic-s, apart. 

Two little feet that never trod 

Upon the earth, as ours liave <loiie, 

Are taken home to walk witii (iod, 
Tn glorious realms Iteyoiid tlie sun. 

A mind that might have gathered power 
From knowledge, to conteiul with strife, 

Is lifted like a fragrant flowi^r 
From out the thorny vale of life. 

Weei> ""^ fl"^ future may disclose 
Tlie wi.sdoni and sui)reinaey 

Of God, in calling to repose 
Thy lf)ved one in its iiifaiiey. 

O, ye w ho lahor to perform 
The duties of a christian here, 

He faithful, struggle with the storm. 
And smile away the starting tear. 

.Suti'lay. Dor. l.'i, 18(;7. 



100 YOUTHFUL DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 



JOY IN A SOUTHERN HOME. 



There is joy in a Southern home to-night, 

And tlie stars are looking down 
With their lambent eyes, from tlie arching skies. 

On tlie (juiet of tlie town. 

There are happy liearts in that family group ; 

And I join tlieir glad refrain, 
With an earnest zeal for the brightest weal 

Of tlie friend that is home again. 

You are welcome back to the hills and vales 

Over which you used to stray ; 
And I joy to learn of your safe return, 

For you've .been so long away. 

Did you meet with friends on your Northern tour 

Like tlie ones you left behind ? 
Do they feel as near as your loved ones here. 

And remember you as kind? 

When the twilight hung o'er the crystal lakes, 

And you wandered forth atilusk, 
Did you ever sigh for the days gone by, 

And the dear old town of Rusk? 

As you glide<l on through the dreamy waves. 

With a cloudless sky above. 
And the lake below in a silver glow, 

Did you think of those you love? 

Did your tiioughts return to the Sunday School, 

And the sweet, expressive face. 
And the fond adieu of your teacher true — 

The Mary who kcj)t your place? 



BY R. B. MCEACHERN. 101 



Oh ! yes, I kuow you are miudful of all, 
Who have longed for you to come, 

And I join the song of the joyous throng, 
And sing vou a welcome home. 



OCTAVIA. 



O, come to the land where a generous heart 
Will welcome your i)resence, and sigh when you part ; 
Where the tall mountain pine, with its evergreen leaf, 
Will banish all vanities tending to grief; 
Where the wild bird of nature so tenderly sings, 
'Neath the gloom of the forest, on hovering wings ; 
Where the Cherokee Nation was once in its prime, 
And the young, sportive archer thus measured his 

rhyme : 
" Let us sin^ to our chieftain an anthem of i)raise 
For the victories achieved in our once happy days ; 
p-or the red men, like sliadows, are passing away, 
And our fathers are silently sleeping in clay ; [known. 
Though perchance the Great Spirit, for causes un- 
Having chastened his children, and left them to moan. 
Will yet gather the remnant, dispelling their fears, 
And enlighten their ignorance, and dry uy) their tears. 
Then around the bold standard we'll rally once more 
And the war-whoo}) shall ring on the enemies' shore." 
Thus sang the bold archer, whose visions were few, 
And his warriors replied : " It is true ; it is true." 
Then come, we will muse where the voice of the bird 
In the clustering foliage daily is heard ; 
For the nightingale sings from her high oaken bower, 
And the trumpet is calm in the sentinel's tower. 



102 YOUTHFUL DAYS AND OTHEK POEMS, 



THE BIBI-Pl 



Tlic Bililf is Mil' jewel of every age, 

The (litiinoiid seal of life's iinniortal ehoni, 
Aud wisdoDi is diffused tlirough every paije — 

Coining by inspiration from the Lortl. 
Learn human nature: 'tis the life of life, 

Congenial to the friendjShip of a friend. 
The language of an eye l)espeaks the strife 

Of thoughts internal — lahoring to eonteud. 
We stand upon the thrishold of the tonih 

And look Iteyond it, scarcely knowing why ; 
And those who shrink from its appalling gloom, 

Are said to douht their immortality : 
However, there are reasons which i)erplex 

Investigation, and confuse the mind ; 
And man his reason may for centuries vex, 

Nor compreheiid what never was designed 
For him to know. That grand AjMX-alypse 

Of hierogly|)hics — whose prophetic eye 
Behohls futurity — may well ahash 

The feebleness of frail mortdity. 
Vet there is still a more exalted Jieing, 

A something which no language can exphiin, 
All Wise, All Powerful, and AHSeeiiig, 

AVhose dwelling place — oh, who can ascertain ? 
The past is ])resent; an<l futurity, 

That nameless nothingof an unknown dream. 
Is shrouded with mysterious majesty 

And gloom — l)Ut to return to our theme. 



BY R. B. MCEACHERX. UV. 



THE KVK, 



The eye — all seaichiii!' Jiiirror ol' the niiiid — 

Witliiii whose broad, expatiatiiij" i»ianee, 
l*rotli.iii<)Us tlioiiurht, and liigh, may he divined, 

l're<*edes all lauiiuaue, and waits in aihanee: 
As when, npon the desert of the west, 

Tlie wild, loniantie sons of nature di-eaui 
Of water, and send on a ffuard, wno rest 

Far in advance heside some crystal stream. 
Thus while we speak, the lanauame of the eye 

I'ortrays what interest in the topic heard 
Men take, and marks them with a smile, or si^-h, 

And writes them down in memory — word for word. 



THE VOICE OF WISDOM. 



The timid ear, snsceptihle <tf sound. 

Appreciates the eomplinu'uts of friends; 
But wisdom's voice is soniethinj; more jtrofound, 

Which urges not— yet which still recommends. 
" Rejoicing, I before creation came, 

Rocked in the cradle of a chaos wild ; 
And from my inextinguishable flame 

Aurora sprang: and God called me His ciiild. 
Subservient, I willingly obeyed 

The Grand, Incomprehensible Sublime; 
And soon with lightning s])eed all space snrveyed, 

And from eternitv deducted time. 



104 YOUTHFUL DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 



The subtraheud in figures none may read, 

The niiiiuend much hiiger still remaius : 
With towering intellect divine the creed, 

Or say that God, through wisdom, all explains. 
I perched upon the lofty Apj^eniue, 

Beneath the umbrage of a classic grove. 
Where Socrates or Homer might recline. 

And taught a lesson uninspired l)y Jove. 
The seven wise men of the Grecian train 

Drank deeply at my fountain iiere on earth ; 
Confucius sought to find the living vein. 

And self relying, lost self valued M'orth." 



LOVE. 



Love is the jewel of a generous heart. 

Warmed by the impulse of its (juickening power; 
And words of wisdom mildly may impart. 

That woman's love's a sweet perennial flower. 
The Pocahontas of immortal fame, 

The bold Oriska of the forest wild ; 
And many others, numerous to name. 

Were persecuted — yet in tears they smiled. 
Sweet evidence historically true, 

Thy voice shall plead like angels from above ; 
And those who persecute cannot subdue 

Tiie queen of nature, or the soul of love. 
Observe the gifted i^en of Hannah Moore, 

Wrapped in a conflict of uueijual strife. 
Where giant powers molested all the shore, 

And Israel's ruler trembled for his life. 



BY R. B. MCEACHERN. 105 



Can youthful vigor fearlessly defy 

The huge, gigantic elianipion of all, 
Or give his carcass to the birds that tly, 

Who hurled defiance at the throne of Saul 
Yes, for the fabric of a nation's pride 

Hung on tlie shoulders of a timid youtii ; 
And he was counted worthy to preside, 

And be a king, because he loved tiie truth. 



THE BROTHEL. 



There's nothing like a married life. 
But care and sorrow sink 

The heart of many a loving wife, 
Whose husband takes to drink. 

The brothel with its open door, 
And flaming sign altove. 

Has power to make a man ignore 
His honor — and his love. 

The keeper, like a Upas tree 

Upon a blasted heath. 
Stands there to offei- you and me 

The bitter cup of (/''(//(. 

'Tis tilled with liciuid pestilence, 
Distilled by licensed laws ; 

And who shall argue his defense. 
Or justify his cause'.' 
14 



106 YOUTHFUIi DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 



There's scarcely any town within 

The borders of our state, 
Witliout these liorrid Imunts of sin, 

Wliere men ejrow desolate. 

Ami is it wise, or is it riglit, 

A traffic to sustain 
Tliat fastens its eternal l)lio:ht 

Upon the heart and brain V 

(), men of I'eason, stop and think 

How sad must be the soul 
Of one who early learns to drink, 

And loses self control. 

While bottles and decanters shine 

Alonji; the bi'othel wall, 
'Tis hard for topers to decline 

The use of alcohol. 

But if you strive to jilace it where 
'Twill be beyond their clutch, 

A thousand hearts, now in despair, 
Will thank you for as much. 

Ten thousand tongues will praise the vote 

That moral worth has won ; 
And sober judgment shall promote 

The good that you have done. 

Society will be improved, 

And property enhanced ; 
Your children, loving and beloved, 

Will grow u]) more ailvanced. 



BY B. B. MCEACHERN. 107 



Yes, iiKire iiiivanctMl than tliose who sec, 

Ami tearfully (leplore 
The toper's inihecility 

Around tlie hrothel <lo(jr. 

The inuoeeut liave suffered shame, 

And with their feet unshod, 
They aslv assistance in tlie name 

Of jiislict', and of God. 

And sliall we turn away our ears. 

And handage up our eyes. 
Indifferent to the prayers and tears 

Tliat from ojipression rise? 

O, Thou wlio didst tlie curse remove, 

And set Thine Israel free, 
Look down with tenderness and love 

On dear old Cherokee ! 

For we are in a wilderness 

Where liquor lions roar. 
And asps and adders coil and hiss 

Around the brothel door. 

The enemies of moral worth, 

The sappers of the poor. 
The blight and mildew of the earth, 

liie 'round the brothel door. 

They reel without their reckonUifr, 

And boast of beinj; brave. 
But death shall spread his sal)lc win<r 

Upon the drunks^i'd's g'rave^ 



108 YOUTHFUL DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 



And this shall be his epitaph, 

In spite of wealth or fame: 
"Here lies a broken, shattered staff, 

Unworthy of a name." 

And wluit of those whose hands have wrought 

The evil we deplore? 
For sin and shame are talketl and taught 

Around the brothel door. 

We see examples every day, 

And hear the boisterous glee 
Of some poor victim on the way 

That leads to infamy. 

And if these lines a word of scoru 

From vicious lips should start, 
'Twill turn and rankle, as a thorn. 

Within tlie speaker's heart. 

For he shall know, in time to come. 

That what I write is true, 
And in a sad and cheerless home 

The rash invective rue. 

Here's good and evil — take your choice, 

For life will soon be o'er ; 
And God shall silence every voice 

Around the brothel door. 



BY R. B. MCEACHERN. 109 



THE PLACE OF DIVINE WORSHIP. 



Are you (.•oniing out to prt'sichiuj^? 

Try to spare the time and go, 
For the minister is teaeliing 

Something- you would like to know, 

Yesterday I lieard him telling 
Of a sinner saved by grace, 

While the tender tears were welling 
O'er his grateful, happy face. 

Be a man of resolution 

And reform, in spite of those 

Who receive your contril)ution 
Only to increase your woes. 

There is profit in i)ursuing 
That which elevates the mind, 

And a pleasure in reviewing 
All that makes us more I'etiued. 

Life has many solemn duties. 

Which should cause us to reflect ; 

For we never see the beauties 
Of the objects we neglect. 

Have you feet, and do you use them 
Always in the proper way? 

Pride is ready to abuse them. 
Sin to lead them both astrav. 



110 YOUTHFUL DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 



Have you liands, and do they lal)or 
Witii the pen, or till tlie soil ? 

Do they benefit your neigiibor. 
Or increase his daily toil ? 

Have you ears, and are they liearing 
Something useful to retain ; 

Or the slang and idle jeering 
Of the vicious and profane ? 

Have you eyes, and does your visiou 
Linger o'er the drunkard's bowl ; 

Or behold it in derision, 
As the torment of the soul ? 

If a tongue to you is given, 
Teach it well by night and day ; 

For the brightest hopes of Heaveu 
Come to those who love to pray. 

Oh, ye sad and broken hearteil 
Sorrow stricken sons of dust ! 

What to you has sin imparted 
Worthy of a moment's trust ? 

All your wealth is unavailing, 
And is fleeting as a breath ; 

For it can't sustain your failing 
Spirit in the hour of death. 

But if you would be rewarded. 
And the time is always rife, 

Try to have your luime recorded 
In the precious Hook of lAt'e. 



BY R. B. MCEACHERX. HI 



I address you as a brother, 

And your joys and sorrows share ; 

Let us strive to meet each other 
Often at the liousr of prayer. 

Come and see the good 'twill do you— 
Put your conscience to the test : 

Your companions will jjursue you, 
And your efforts may be blest. 

Idle men increase tlieir troubles, 
Lounging on the public sciuare : 

All their plans are empty bubbles, 
And tlifir conversations — air. 

But if you would have a pleasure. 

Sinless, and without alloy. 
Make the love of God your treasure, 

And your life shall end in joy. 

When I hear the simple story 
Of the cross, and think of those 

Who are on their way to glory, 
How my heart with rapture glows. 

How I long to hear the singing 

Of the bright and l)lood washed throngs, 
While the golden harps are ringing 

To their never ending songs. 

There the stream of life is flowing 

O'er a pure, celestial sod : 
Who is ready? Who is going 

To the paradise of God ? 



112 YOUTHFUL DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 



NO NAME. 



Tlie niglit's descending' shadows come, 

As with a niehineholy liuui, 

And twilight gathers up her wings, 

And there is music on tlie strings 

Of every lute, whose cadence blends 

The loving- hearts of trusting friends 

Together in tran({uility— 

But there are none to care for nie ! 

The sun shall rise to kiss the tlowers, 
And April clouds will bring them showei's, 
And they with dewy lips shall speak 
Their fragrant language to the meek 
And tender vines that love to tiing 
Their verdure o'er the brow of spring ; 
And other eyes the sight shall see, 
But there are none to care for me ! 

The oaks shall from their acorns leap, 
As nature waking out of sleep, 
And wave their spreading branches o'er 
The murmuring brook and mossy moor; 
And youth and age shall gather there, 
The beauty of the scene to sliare, 
And they will bless the leafy tree, 
But there are none to care for me! 



BY R. B. MCEACHEBN. 113 



MAGNOLIA. 



The following lines are intended as a tribute oi rpspecc to the mem- 
ory of a vonng telegraph operator, who died very suddenly at 
Magnolia." in the state of Arkansas, some time during the last year 
of the war. Hovt was at his key late one evening, and ou the fol- 
lowing morning, when .Mr. Wickersham announced his death to 
the superintendent at Marshall, some officer on the line exclaimed : 
" Magnolia is silent forever." 

Magnolia is .sileut forever ! 

His key to the tomb we consign ; 
And tlie tlioiiglit is so sad that we never 

Sliall liear him again on the line: 
Yet they say that his rank is far greater 

Thau it could have ever been here; 
Bat I feel for the young operator — 

Arkansas, hast thou not a tear? 

The virgins are mild as a morning 

That cloudlessly wakes in the east, 
And thou kuowest that death is a warning— 

Oh, weep for the stranger deceased ! 
There are dew drops that fall without number, 

And sparkle on pitiless stone; 
There are friends and companions that slumber, 

Whose merits have never been known. 

The beautifid rainliow that blendeth 

Its colors with that of the cloud. 
Like an angel of mercy descendeth, 

Its perishing form to enshroud. 
But Magnolia is silent forever, 

His key to the tomb we consign. 
And the thought is so sad that we never 

Shall hear him again on the line. 

15 



114 YOUTHFUL DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 



TAKE BACK THE HARP. 



Take back the harp : it must be strung 

By softer hands than mine ; 
Indifference leaves the song unsung, 

And half the fault is thine. 

With labor that has been bestowed, 

There lingers no offense ; 
But sorrow sits in the abode 

Of hope and confidence. 

Some seeds do fall on fertile soil, 
\nd yield their golden shocks. 

While others bud to mock our toil. 
And die among the rocks. 

The mind is wonderful with all 

Its faculties sublime, 
And yet 'tis l)itter to recall 

This waste of so much time. 

The truth constrains me thufe to say, 
With sadness and with sorrow. 

That one may be your friend to-day — 
Your enemy to-morrow. 

Then take the harp ; it must be strung 
By softer hands than mine ; 

Indifference leaves the song unsung, 
And half the fault is thine. 



BY B, B. MCEACHEBN. 115 



THOU ART GONE. 



Thou art gone, alas, forever ! 

Ves, forever, thou art gone ; 
And 'tis sad, yet friends must sever, 

As the rtovvers upon the lawn; 
And the cheek that l)loonietii gaily, 

Wears the shade' of death hehind ; 
And our observations daily, 

Teach us all to be resigned. 
When the wedded vine is riven. 

And its tendrils forced t« part. 
Is there not a Friend in Heaven 

To liind up tlie broken heart? 
Dwells there not some mediator 

In the spirit land of bliss? 
" Yes," proclaims the Great Creator, 

" I'll not leave you comfurtless " 

Jordan's waves, though wild and bubl)ling, 

(aimed tlieir vortex for the blest; 
"There the wicked cease frotn troubling, 

Tiiere the weary be at rest." 
Through the gloom a form is coming. 

Truth resplendently is shown. 
And another voice is humming 

" Holy ! Holy ! " 'round the throne. 
Friendship is a sacred treasure, 

Found among the faithful few 
AVho contribute to our pleasure, 

And wliose words are ever true. 
Father, lo! our tribulation 

Conies upon us ; yet 'tis just. 
Oh, reward us with salvation. 

And in death let all l)e blessed. 



116 YOUTHFUL, DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 



ASSOCIATION. 



Association lias a power, 
Wliose potent spell can overcast 

The pleasures of the present hour, 
By reminiscence of the past. 

I have not heard the gentle tone 
Of that sweet voice for many years ; 

But often Avhen I sit alone, 
Its memory tills my eyes with tears. 

The golden casket of her mind 
Is stored with many treasures rare ; 

And most of them have been refined 
By perse vereuce and by prayer. 

The fountains of her heart are sealed 
By angels, for the sweet abode 

Of that bright land, through faith revealed 
To those who put their trust in God. 



FORT HOUSTON. 



Farewell to old Fort Houston home. 
To me it is a classic spot ; 

And when and whereso'er I roam 
'Twill never, never be forgot. 



BY R. B. MCEACHEBN. 117 



A sentinel eedar flings its sliade 

Where once the fort so i)roii(lly stood, 

But nothing of tiie rude stoelvade 
Remains — not e'en a block of wood. 

Yet while I stand within tliese walls, 
And look upon yon rising sun, 

My memory vividly recalls 
The deeds those pioneers have done. 

Oh, Texas! when the angry clouds 
Of savage war were o'er thee spread, 

Thy hills and vales became the slirouds 
And pillows of thy mighty dead. 

And from the waters of Sabine 
To where the Rio Grande flows, 

Their graves, as jewels, dot the green, 
And poets sing of their repose. 

Let rocks be crumbled into dust, 
And time these vestiges remove ; 

But we'll be mindful of our trust, 
And faithful to a patriots love. 

Oh, Texas! happy are the sons 

And daughters of thy genial clime — 

Thy mother states are Washington's, 
But in thyself tliou art sublime. 

Thy star ascended by degrees, 
Till Montezuma caught its glow, 

And spread her l)anners to the breeze, 
But Texas conquered Mexico. 



118 YOUTHFUL, DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 

Where now are all the painted hosts, 
Of wlioni a thousand legends tell ? 

Go ask the military posts, 

Within whose range they fought and fell. 

The cunning archer's stealthy tread 
Is hanished from our sunny plains. 

And peace has made its downy bed 
On battle grounds, and quiet reigns. 

Thus we as archers should prepare 
To meet the shock of coming strife, 

For there is many a secret snare 
Along ihe rugged path of life. 

W^e're marching on through open fields. 
Where danger's never out of sight; 

But Ood has tempered all our shields. 
If we will only use them right. 

Farewell, Fort Houston ! may thy bowers 
Bloom on through nniny years to come, 

And angels guard the tender flowers 
Of John H. Reagan's happy home. 



MY MOTHER. 



I urn thinking of my mother. 

And it is a pleasant thought, 
For I know we love eacli other 
• With a love that can't be bought. 



BY B. B. MCEACHERN. 119 



Wealtli may scatter pearls of pleasure, 

Palaces ami castles o'er, 
But a mother's love's a treasure. 

For the rich and for the poor. 

'Tis a pure, unselfish feeling, 
And our helplessness derives 

Something from it that is healing 
To the sorrows of our lives. 

Baser metals leave their canker 

On the crucible and coal ; 
But a mother's love's an anchor 

And a comfort to the soul. 

Though the genial showers are given, 
And the dew drops from above, 

There is nothing under heaven 
Ecpial to a mother's love. 



QUIET MEDITATION. 



Here let me pause, and meditate alone. 

Upon the current of life's rapid stream, 
Fanned by mild zephyrs from a distant zone. 

Conversing with the spirit of my dream. 
'Tis midnight ! And the circling hours roll on 

Fearless and heedless of the coming day ; 
For time, when measured, is by moments gone, 

Whose rapid flight we have no power to stay. 



120 YOUTHFUL DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 



TO MY PUPIL. 



My bonny friend, you're going to take 

A solemn obligation 
Upon yourself. O be awake 

To every inclination 
That sympathy suggests to one 

Who makes ner life endearing ; 
For when a righteous deed is done, 

The cause will have a hearing. 

The strength of eighteen summers hung 

AVithin a maiden's tresses, 
Will give experience a tongue 

That baflftes and redresses 
The wrongs of slander's kindling strife, 

No matter how appalling. 
And Heaven will reward the wife 

Who lives up to her calling. 

Be faithful unto all that thou 

Hast to thy lover spoken. 
And prayerfully, O, test the vow. 

That it may not be broken ; 
For there are times when fatal darts, 

With thorny fingered boldness, 
Are winged to our unguarded hearts. 

Before we feel their coldness. 

Procastination makes us late 

In every undertaking, 
And yet we might be truly great 

Bv consciously awaking 



BY B. B. MCEACHERN. 121 



To those realities which prove — 
Ahis ! when they enslave us — 

How little we deserve the loVe 
Of Him who died to save us. 



LITTLE KATIE MULLINS. 



" Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God. 

Friends are sighing, 

Flowers are dying, 
And we feel sad recompense ; 

For hehind us, 

To remind us. 
Death is reaping innocence. 

'Twas a little angel given 

In the world awhile to roam ; 
But they took her back to Heaven, 

For the earth was not her home ! 
Thus the germ of every flower 

Casts its seeds on waters bright. 
Thus the soul's infinite jjower 

Calls it back to life and light. 

When the beauty of the morning 

Blushes in the eastern sky, 
'Tis the voice of nature warning 

Us that we are born to die ! 
For the lovely day is banislied 

In the triumph of its reign, 

16 



122 YOUTHFUL DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 



But the little augel vanished 
8hull have lived to smile again. 

Yes, vitality is burning 

lu the censer of the soul, 
And tlie form to dust returning, 

Only gives itself control ; 
For the spirit, disencumbered, 

Swiftly wings its way to rest. 
Passing worlds and worlds unnumbered. 

Seeking Heaven and the blest. 

Many precious peails are growing 

In the depths of every zone ; 
Many crystal streams are flowing, 

And their sources are unknown. 
Death with his destructive power 

Makes our destiny obscure; 
For he plucks the timid flower 

When its growtii is i)remature. 

God of Heaven, 

Thou hast given 
Life to every living thing ; 

And we bless thee. 

And confess thee 
As our everlasting king. 



BY R. B. MCEACHERN. 123 



Br RIAL. 



Jt'sus said unto her: I am tlio rosuirt'cliou iuul tlie life ; lie that 
believeth in me though he were dead, yet shall ho live : and who- 
soever liveth and believeth in me shall never die." 

The heavy sod, like hars of lead, 
Fell on the coffin of the dead. 

And many, W('ei)in,n-, stood 
Beside the lonely resting place 
Of one whose sweet, endearing face 

Expressed that she was good. 

Too good to breathe the breath of life 
Within a world where sin and strife 

Are present everywhere ; 
And yet 'tis sad to be bereft 
Of loved ones, and to lie thus left 

Beside a vacant chair. 

A year has jjassed, and time has laid 
The winter's snow and summer's shade 

Her folded hands aVtove ; 
But, oh ! it is a bitter cuj). 
To see the shrouding folded up 

About a form we love. 

Our family circles cannot be 
Unbroken while mortality 

Upon the earth remains ; 
For like the green herbs of the tield, 
They must be withered and concealed 

From cold December's rains. 



124 YOUTHFUL DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 



THE NEW MADE GRAVE. 



The following lines are sacredly dedicated to the memory of Miss 
Lucie Thompson, who departed this lite at Tyler, Texas, July 
24, 1870. 

"I will ransom them from the power of the grave; I will redeem 
them from death; oh, death, I will be thy plague; oh, grave, I 
will be thy destruction." 

Sorrow shrouds the faee of pleasure, 

And the funeral pall is spread 
O'er a mother's darling treasure, 

And we know that she is dead : 
Know that we shall never, never 

Hoar her loving voice again, 
'Till wo moot to live forever 

In a land that knows no pain. 

Strike the harp, and let its numbers 

With our fervent prayers asoend — 
God protect the dreamless slumbers 

Of a dear, departed friend. 
Be the balm of every sorrow, 

Wipe away our falling tears : 
Comfort Alice, comfort Laura — 

Be their stay through coming years. 

Life is like a lovely morning 

Mildly merging into noon ; 
But it fades witliout a warning, 

And tlie evening comes too soon : 
Comes with shadows to receive us 

As we follow one by one. 
And its warning voice will grieve us 

'Till the setting of the sun. 



BY B. B. MCEACHERN. 125 



O, the bitter, bitter anguish 

For the yovithful and the brave— 
I am weary and I languisli, 

Kneeling by a new made grave. 
Strew our paths with flowers unfading, 

From the ])ara(Use of God, 
Wliile the tree of life is shading 

Those who sleep beneath the sod. 



A TRIBUTE OF RESPECT. 



The following lines are intended as a tribute to the memory of J. II. 
McEachern, former editor of the " Jelterson Democrat:" 

'Tis sad to know that gloomy death 

Has lifted up his iron hand 
To dig thy grave and stop thy breath. 

And drag thee from the living land ; 
But in that spirit world apart. 

Where christians are as angels known. 
The love of God that filled thy heart 

On earth, will keep thee near His throne. 

Thy face, on which the bloom of health 

Had hung for five and twenty years, 
Is buried now with all its wealth 

Of smiles, and we are left in tears ; 
But He who comf<n-ts those that weep 

Can heal the fountain of our grief. 
And make thy death a gentle sleep, 

And wake thee to a bright relief. 



126 YOUTHFUL DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 

The tender grass will form a sod 

Above the cold and lifeless clay, 
That ouce contained a shrine where God 

Was worshipi^ed in a righteous way; 
And though no monument of stone 

INFay rise to mark the precious mound, 
The Lord of Heaven knows His own, 

And sorrow sliall witli joy l)e crowned. 

The sailor hjoks witli keener sight 

TTpon the fast receding shore, 
Than at the waters foaming white 

His flying vessid's prow bet<)re; 
And when the land is lost to view 

And naught but sea and sky renuiin, 
He breathes a sigh and bids adieu 

To scenes he ne'er may see again. 

And thus the pilgrimage of life 

Is like the passage of a ship : 
Some weather through the storm and strife, 

While others perish on the trip. 
It is a voyage that all must nurke, 

But when we reach the farther shore, 
O, may our souls in glory wake. 

And there remain forever more. 

June, 1874. 



BY B. B. MCEACHERN, 127 



THE BELL OF EUCLID LOIXIE (No 45). 



The bell of Euclid Lodge is old, 
And yet its voice is unimpaired, 

Because its worth outweighs the gold 
That keejjs the miserly ensnared. 

Its iron tongue has learned to speak 
Tiie language of the Brotherhood, 

And at the close of every week 
It rings for some fraternal good. 

The grass uncultivated grows 
Upon the sunny breast of spring ; 

The smallest stream unaided flows, 
And birds without a teacher sing. 

But man created to depend 

Must from his God his strength receive ; 
We think that death is not our friend. 

Because its presence makes us grieve. 

Ring on, ring on, and fill the air 
With music for thy friend and foe ; 

Thy voice, old bell, is just as clear 
As when I heard it .vears ago. 

Ring on, ring on, the mournful strain 

Of melancholy rhapsody 
Hast called my fancy back again 

To life, and its reality. 



128 YOUTHFUL DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 



And though I sometimes go astray, 
As others have before me gone, 

I hear thee at the close of day. 
And for any waywardness atone 

God bless the whole Fraternity 
In every lodge, at every place ; 

With lives bound up in masonry 
They benefit the human race. 

Oh, give them of that hidden flre 
That lit the zeal of A braliam 

Upon the summit of Moriah, 
And in their need provide a laml). 

The greatest may become the least. 
The first may also be the last; 

But knowledge, coming from the East, 
Is sweetest when the veil is passed. 



ALICE. 



Beautiful and more endearing 

Are the words of faithfulness, 
Than the cold and formal sneering 

Of a thousand worlds like this; 
And if life is but a pension, 

Let us labor to improve 
That which merits our attention. 

And reward it with our love. 



1 . — — — 

BY K. B. MCEACHERN. 129 



Not the heartless approbation 

Of a self elated few ; 
But a mutual inelinatiou 

To discover what is true, 
Aud advise with one another 

How to shun what may betide— 
She the sister, I the l)r()ther, 

God our father, truth our guide. 

Thus, when life is in its even, 

Aud the shadows softly fall. 
We shall feel the joy of Heaven, 

Aud our ears shall hear the call 
Of the angels as they guide us, 

To a happy home above. 
Through the gates that now divide us 

From the objects of our love. 

Father, mother, sister, brother- 
Links of one unbroken chain, 

Loving God and one another. 
Free from sorrow, death and pain ; 

Free from every sad emotion, 
Tearless and without a sigh ; 

Living on in sweet devotion 
Tluit shall never, never die. 



130 YOUTHFUL, DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 



LITTLE FANNIE. 



I hear her laujjliing dowu the street, • 

And know that she is near, 
The patter of whose httle feet 

Is music to my ear. 

Slie speaks so tenderly and mild. 

Is gentle and refined ; 
And every body loves the child 

Because her lieart is kind. 

The smiles that 'round licr lips repose 

Are jjleasant to be seen : 
She is the sweetest little rose 

That blooms in Palestine. 

When spring dispels the winter's gloom, 

And other flowerets blow, 
I'll not forget the tender bloom 

That blossomed in the snow\ 

May useful themes her thoughts engage, 
And shield her life from care, 

'Till silver shreds by honored age 
Are braided iji her hair. 

And when her happy race is run. 

And life is at an end. 
May little Fannie Robertson 

In Heaven find a friend. 



BY R. B. MCEACHERN. 131 



LA CISNE. 



There's a stuiliug face in town 

And a cheerful heart to-day ; 
And a voice tliat rings like a silver bell 

With tlie Charnwood girls at play. 
She's a warbling bird of song, 

And she carols with delight 
To the softly falling drops of dew, 

In the stillness of the night. 

Chorus — Singing, singing, singing on the lawn ; 
Happy, happy, happy Sallie Swann. 

When the evening shadows sleep 

On the flowery breast of May, 
She's the sunshine of each loving heart 

With the Charnwood girls at play. 
When her song is hushed in death, 

And her voice is heard no more. 
May the glorious angels bear her home 

To a bright, immortal shore. 

Chorus. — Dwelling, dwelling, dwelling upon high, 

Happy, happy, happy singing in the sky. 



thp: dying prisoner. 



Turn back, turn back, relentless foe. 

Retire a little space, 
And let the Southern breezes blow 

Upon your prisoner's face ; 



132 YOUTHFUL DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 



And when you tacitly agree 

To lay him in his grave, 
Remember that lie scorned to be 

A Northern conqueror's slave ; 
That Mississippi's iron will 

Gave pur^jose to his deed, 
And " like a city on a hill " 

He wears his laurel meed. 

The enterprise may culminate 

In glory undefined. 
But no one can annihilate 

The independent mind ; 
For there is still a liberty, 

Au axiomatic feud, 
That supervenes all tyranny 

And dwells in thought accrued. 
O, when they loose the silver chord 

And break the golden bowl. 
Lord, God of Sabaotli, reward 

Thou the immortal soul. 

Sleep on, sleep on, the lake bound soil 

That urns thy lifeless clay, 
Has been anointed with the oil 

Of Southern sympathy; 
And when the twilight softly throws 

Her mantle o'er the west. 
We'll think of thee in thy repose, 

And know thou art at rest. 
Long may his memory dwell with us 

Whose victory has been won ; 
He sleeps in the Necropolis — 

His toil on earth is done. 



BY R. B. MCEACHERN. 133 



TO FREDDIE. 



Beautiful rose, so fresh and gay, 

Brief is thy date— fading away ; 

As (h'eanis that haunt tlie soul by night, 

Turning the darkness into light. 

Which, when the morning eonies so fair, 

Do vanish with the unseen air. 

Thus crimson bloom, so fresh and gay, 

Brief is thy date — fading away. 

Yet, nuiv tlie life of lier wlio gave 
This present, which I cannot save. 
Be spared to dwell in brighter spheres 
Beyond this darksome vale of tears; 
Beyond the stars above the earth. 
Where souls receive their second birth ; 
Where every hope is pure and bright, 
And darkness changes into light. 



LINES ON VISITING THE GRAVE OF A 
FRIEND. 



A sad, surviving friend would fain 

Have pressed thy dying hand, 
And heard thy manly voice again 

This side the spirit land ; 
But thou hast gone across the stream 

Whose waves the living dread, 
And yet it seemeth like a dream 

To me that thou art dead. 



134 YOUTHFUL DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 

I stand beside thy grave to-day 

And breathe a parting vow : 
To-morrow I may pass away, 

And be as tliou art now ; 
For roses on tlie cheek of liealth 

Are only jDlanted tliere 
To liide the more luxnriant wealtli 

Of sickness and despair. 

It makes me shudder wlien I think 

How many careless feet 
Are walking on the very brink 

Of that unknown retreat ; 
For death is waiting for us all, 

And, oh ! what precious bloom 
Snail be the next to fade and fall 

Into the silent tomb. 

Perhaps some Dives may return 

His body to the earth. 
And leave upon his marble urn 

His name, and age, and birth. 
But what are pyramids of stone 

And monuments of dust. 
Compared with the eternal throne 

Of God, in Whom we trust. 

The grass that giows upon the sod 

Our lifeless forms above. 
Is but a covering sent from tiod 

To show His tender love. 
The plowshare and the pruning hook 

May ijass above my head, 
But if my name is in tlie booI< 

Of life I am not dead. 



BY R. B. MCEACHERN. 1§5 



THE SOLDIER'S REQTTEST. 



" Oh ! hury nie not where oblivion's wave 

Sliall forever roll madly above me, 
But lay me to sleep in an old fashioned grave, 

By the side of the parents that love me. 
And I will be thankful," he said, and expired 

With the promise of being protected ; 
But the enemy came, and the army retired, 

And the soldier's request was neglected. 
Thus many a heart that is cheerful and gay 

iNfay be crushed by an untimely sorrow ; 
And the man who is foremost in battle to-day 

May be food for the vultures to-morrow. 



THE RUSK YOUNG MEN* 



A BAI,I,AD. 



O, the Rusk young men are the Rusk young men 

Wherever they are known, 
And it makes me sigh as I pass them bj' 

To leave them all alone ; 
Yet the teachers say we shall not talk. 

And perhaps their rules are just, 
But in fancy we will take a walk 

With the ones we love the best. 

When the sun goes down on the quiet town, 
The business houses close, 

"Set to original music in the key of A major. 



186 YOUTHFUL DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 

And the gents repair to their evening fare 

As the dewdrops to the rose. 
Wlien the stars are sliining on tlie trees, 

And the niglit lias spread its sliade 
O'er tlie watcliful eyes of tlie good trustees, 

We can liave a serenade. 

When the band boys come, with the liorn and drum, 

Tlie comiDliment is ours, 
And a card is thrown, by a hand unknown. 

With a sweet bouquet of flowers. 
It is not the rules that we defy. 

Nor the teachers kind and true ; 
But to war with love 'neath a moon-lit sky 

Is more than we can do. 

Chorus. 

For the Rusk young men are the Rusk young men 

Wherever they are known, 
And it makes me sigh as I pass them by 

To leave them all alone. 



LEADING THE BLIND. 



Shut up within the walls 

Of this dark house of clay, 
I hear the friendly calls 

Of those that 'round me play ; 
For little children heed 

And sympathize with me. 
And tenderly they lead 

The man that cannot see. 



BY R. B. MCEACHERN. IS'J 

They take me by the hand 

And tell me when and where 
To place my feet, or stand, 

With such devoted care 
That I am free to own 

This merciful and kind 
Protection from the throne 

Of Jesus, to the blind. 

They tell me that the flowers 

Are beautiful and bright, 
And that this world of ours 

Is full of love and light ; 
And if their words be true 

There is a cloudless shore 
Beyond the azure blue 

Where blindness is no more. 

O, christians, lift your hearts. 

And breathe a fervent prayer 
For those that fill the marts 

Of sadness everywhere ; 
And tell them of the road, 

And how the way to find. 
Which leads to that abode 

Where there shall be no blind. 



LILLTE GAMMAGE. 



The Lillie we have loved is dead ! 

They've crossed her hands upon her breast, 
And laid her in an earthen bed : 

Somebody's darling is at rest. 
18 



138 YOUTHFUL DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 



She was too frail for skill to save, 
Aud grass Avill soon lie growing o'er 

Another fair, young orphan's grave: 
Somebody's darling is no moi'e. 

We did not see the gloomy hearse, 

Nor hear it rolling slowly by ; 
But whether willing or averse. 

Somebody's darling had to die. 

She bloomed among us like the flower 
Whose beauteous name to her was given ; 

Then droojjed and faded in an hour: 
Somebody's darling is in Heaven. 

She paled l)eneath the friendly stars, 

And angels wafted her away 
To where no shadow ever mars 

The sunshine of eternal <lay. 

We'll miss her Miien we call the ehoir 

Together, but we cannot bring 
Her back ; for she has gone up higher, 

With all the glorified to sing. 

And when we've trained our voices here. 
And silence reigns instead of song ; 

Within a more exalted sphere 

We hope to join the blood washed throng. 

Oh ! what a meeting there will be. 
And how delightful must it prove 

To live through all eternity. 
In paradise, with those we love. 



BY R. B. MCEACHEBN. 139 



A LETTER IN VERSE. 



Write nie a letter, and give me tlie uews : 
Knowledge is better to gain than to lose ; 
Write in the twilight of evening, at dusk ; 
Write to your friend who is living in Rusk. 

Write nie a letter, if only to tell 
You anil your loved ones are happy and well. 
Do not forget nie because you're away — 
Write me a letter without a delay. 

Write me a letter, you can if you will, 
Write with a pencil, a pen, or a quill ; 
I shall be pleased with your verbage and style- 
Write me a letter and send me a smile. 

Write me a letter and 1 shall be glad — 
Kindness is comfort to those who are sad ; 
And as your life is so sunny anil bright, 
Write me a message of friendship to-night. 

Write me a letter, and write it from choice : 
Memory has copied the sound of your voice ; 
And if another my proxy must be, 
I shall imagine you present with me. 

Many a Ijreeze has been wafted along 
Since we have mingled our voices in song; 
Changes have followed the Hight of our years- 
Some for our pleasure, and some for our tears. 

Life is a volume, each day is a page, 
Written in youtli to be copied l)y age; 



140 YOUTHFUL DAYS AND OTHEK POEMS, 



And if its leaves could be carefully turued, 
Much we've neglected might wisely be learned. 

Write nie a letter, in prose or in song. 

Sign it and seal it, and send it along; 

I shall be grateful for what you have penned — 

Write, and believe me, as ever. Your Friend. 



DESPAIR. 



The river of my life is fed 

By many bitter streams ; 
The flowers along its banks are dead, 

And all those happy dreams 
That expectation held to view. 

Have vanished like the spray 
That rises from the morning dew 

To gild the infant day. 

The river of my life is dark, 

And deeper grows the gloom — 
I cannot see one single spark 

To light me to the tomb. 
Oh ! l>ring me near the cross of Christ, 

And whether rich or poor. 
My soul shall never be enticed 

To leave it any more. 

He ceased, and though his voice was weak, 
His earnest prayer was strong ; 



BY R. B. MCEACHEBN. 141 



He seemed to liear the angels speak, 
And like a sad, sweet sonji-. 

Their words eanie tloating on the air ; 
He felt that he was blessed, 

And thus in triumph o'er despair 
His gratitude expressed. 

The river of my life is fed 

By crystal drops of dew : 
The flowers that yesterday were dead, 

To-day have bloomed anew ; 
The birds have all returned to sing 

Along its sunny banks, 
And every living, moving thing 

Is eloquent with thanks. 

The river of my life is glad, 

And love's enhancing charms, 
Like little isles with verdure clad. 

Lie sleeping in its arms. 
The rising sun has kissed away 

The clouds that lingered there. 
And when he sets the stars will stay 

And keep its waters clear. 

The leafless trees in winter show 

But little signs of life ; 
And how is any man to know. 

Until the time is rife, 
Which one is worthy to remain, 

Or which condemn to fall: 
The hand that planted may sustain 

And cultivate them all. 



142 YOUTHFUL DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 



THE GIRLS OF RUSK. 



Written in reply to --The Knsk Young Men," and set to original 
nuisie in the key of A flat major and F minor, ending with a quar- 
tette chorus. 

The girls of Rusk are doubly detii-, 

And while iny happy home 
Is hallowed by their voices here, 

It makes me sad to roam. 
They warble Mith the iiirds of spriug, 

Ami through the summer days 
The sougs that I have heard them sing 

luspired these humble lays. 

Chorus. 

Oh ! who would not love them forever 
And gladly respond to their call? 

In future our pathway may sever, 
But we will remember them all. 

While autumn casts its leaflets down 

To mingle with the dust, 
Or winter wears a snowy crown. 

Their constancy I'll trust ; 
For as the memory of the past 

With present pleasure blends, 
I find that they are, first and last. 

The truest, best of friends. 

The sky retains its azure hue 

The same from year to year, 
And if between them and the blue 

Of Heaven the clouds appear, 
O, may the power that placed them there 

Disperse them all again, 



BY R. B. MCEACHERN. 143 

Aud leave their path through life as clear 
As sunshine after rain. 

My heart is filled with gratitude 

That nothing- can remove, 
'Till every feeling is suhdued 

That teaches nie to love. 
And when my day is growing dusk, 

Before the stars appear, 
I'll hless the lovely girls of Rusk, 

And leave them with a tear. 

Chorts. 

Oh ! yes, we will love them forever 
And clieerf 'ly respond to their call : 

In future our pathway may sever, 
But we will remember them all. 



WRITTEN TO THE RUSK UNION SUNDAY 
SCHOOL. ' 



Our grand old Union Sunday School 

For six and twenty years or more 
Has stood among us as a pool 

Of healing for the rich and poor ; 
And on the first of every week 

The living love of God comes down 
To move its waters for the weak, 

And bless the people of the town. 



l44 YOUTHFUL DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 



'Tis as, the shadow of a rock 

To pilgrims in a weary land ; 
And ^vives us strength to bear the shock 

Of sin, while we united stand. 
We lay aside our different creeds. 

And meet together as we should, 
To learn a lesson from his deeds 

Wliose life was spent in doing good. 

We read the story of the cross, 

And talk of Heaven as our home. 
The pleasure of this world is dross 

Compared with that which is to come ; 
And oh ! what mortal tongue can tell 

The rapture of that happy band. 
Who meet to never say farewell. 

In what we call the better land. 

Ye who would make your lives sublime. 

Be faithful to your sacred trust, 
And ever mindful of the time 

When ye shall slumber in the dust; 
For death will loose the silver chord 

That binds the body to the soul. 
And there is promised no reward 

To those who bear a broken bowl. 

Then let us meet arciund this fount 

Of love, and till our hearts with grace 
Sufficient to api^roach the mount 

Of God, and see the Savior's face. 
The ocean of the sky con tains 

The "nameless yonder" of the blest: 
There life o'er death forever reigns. 

And there with angels we may rest. 



ExisteiK'O here is but a In-eath 

Tliat wastes itself in temporal strife: 
But " Be thou faithful uuto death, 

And thou shalt have a crown of life." 
Oh, sad and weary heart, be still ! 

And at the closing of thy day 
Ijie down upon some flowery hill. 

And dream thv sorrows all away. 



RECOLLECTIONS OF PALESTINE. 



DEPKATEr. TO T..E MlSKAf. DEl'A KTMENT OF THE PALESTINE HIGH 
SCHOOI,. 

When the brightness of the mornino- 

Rises o'er the dewy dell. 
And you hear the silver warning 

Of the kind professor's bell. 
Ringing, ringing, sweetly pealing, 

"Come into the common hall ; " 
And the man of (^od with feeling 

Asks a blessing on you all, 

Saying : " Father, help the youthful. 

Aid us in our enteri)rise ; 
And, above all, make them truthful, 

Patient, diligent and \\ise; " 
^Ylule you stand with earnest faces, 

Froni the world's indifference free. 
Ere you hurry to your places, 

Do you ever think of me? 
19 



146 YOUTHFUL DAYS AND OTHEK POEMS, 



I would willingly, yes gladly, 

Have remained the year to come, 
For I miss you, oli ! so sadly, 

But my duty failed me home. 
I was with you as a br(jther, 

And you filled my heart witli joy 
'Till I heard a widowed mother 

8ijihin^' for her absent h()y. 

Life with her is in its t-ven' ; 

And until the uiylit descends, 
Every ettbrt shall he given 

To that first anil best of friends. 
There is pleasure in the duty 

Which we owe to Him above, 
And a marvel in the beanty 

Of a mother's changeless love. 

There is rapture in the feeling 

Of a pure and loving heart, 
And the kindest wonls aiv healing 

To the lips from which they start. 
There is not a friendly token, 

When we live or come to die, 
Eijual to the gently spoken 

Word that brings a sweet reply. 

When the spring returns with Flora, 

And the winter's at an end. 
Tell my gentle reader, Dora, 

To be mindful of her friend. 
Mention Mamie, Bettie, Anna, 

Phenia C. and Katie J., 
Ireiie T. and Ella Hannah, 

Fannv S. and Johnnv J)av. 



Two l)y two, 1 lu'iir tlu-iii c-oiuiiiii; 

V\> the stairway in the hull- 
Hear their gentle voices humming 

Airs fanjiliar to us all ; 
And I think, as they are singing. 

But 'tis hetter not to know, 
That their voices may he ringing 

For the last time here helow. 

Two by two, they taki> their places, 

And I long so much to see; 
For I know their bright, young faces 

Would be beautiful to me. 
Sight affords us many pleasures, 

But its absence is defined 
P.y a rayless night that measures 

Desolation to the blind. 

Two by two I hear them going 

Down the stairway in the hall, 
And my heart is overflowing 
With a tenderness tor all ; 
\nd I think of mn in Heaven 

Who is free from care and pain : 
She retired one sunny even' 
Never t« return again. 

Two by tw(j, they'll take their stations 

In the future yet to come, 
As their varied inclinations 

May suggest to each a home ; 
But I'll not forget their kindness, 

And my gratitude shall prove 
That the sorrow of my l>liuduess 

Finds a solace in tlieir love. 



148 YOUTHFUL DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 



Two by two, we journey gladly 

Through the tlowery paths of youth ; 
One l)y one, we leave them sadly — 

Life is short, and death's a truth ; 
Then let all of us be trying 

To repair each others loss, 
For beyond the scene of dying 

Gleams the glory of the cross. 

When the evening scatters roses 

'Round the sinking orb of light, 
And this lovely earth reposes 

Trembling in the la]) of night — 
'Mid its softly, silvered splendor, 

While your happy lu'arts are free, 
And your thoughts are all so tender, 

Do you ever think of me? 

There are times when those who love us 

Seem unmindful of their trust. 
Like the graves that close above us. 

And forget to mark our dust. 
There are times when all our gladness 

Seems to melt away in tears. 
But the burden of one's sadness 

Lightens with the lapse of years. 

Friends are often forced to sever. 

And in sorrow dwell apart, 
But your names shall live forever 

In the sunshine of my iieart. 
Friends u|)i)n life's boisterous ocean. 

Friends that hear my last adieu, 
F"'riends of most sincere devotion. 

Let your friendship still l>e true. 



BY R. B. MCEACHERN. 149 



MY DARK-EYED GEORGIA FRIEND. 



Adieu, my tUiik-fved Georgia trieiid, 
My dark-eyed Georgia Mend, adieu! 

Long may the sunny future bend 
Above a heart so kind and true. 

Wiien memory gatiier.s up the tears 
Tluit gratitude, for sympathy. 

Has wept o'er joys of otlier years, 
8weet stranger, I will think of thee. 

The niusieof a i)artiiig word 

Is like the melancholy roar 
Of ocean, when its dejjths are stirred 

And gently waved against the shore. 

Tlie beauty of the human face 
Is loveliest when its lineaments 

Are brightened by the pearly trace 
Of parting tears and innocence. 

The pressure of a hand may bring 
A smile of joy or sense of pain ; 

But friends are like thetlowersof spring- 
We gather them to lose again. 

Oh, it is sad to write t.Ue phrase 
That separates us one by one, 

But I'll revere through coming days 
The memory of a Georgian. 

Yet once again, my Georgia friend. 
My dark-eyed Georii'ia friend, adieu ! 



150 YOUTHFUIi DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 



Long may tho sunny futuix' hend 
Above a lieart so kind and trvw. 



MORRIS REAGAN. 



Oh! Morris Reagan, wlien 1 hear 
The voices of tliy cliildren dear, 
It makes me wisli tiiat I could see 
The Bina that resembles thee ; 
Or in tliy gentle Ida's face 
The features of her mother trace. 

Alas! 'tis sad to be thus left- 

Of father, mother, both bereft— 

But like those sweet perennial tlowers. 

Whose beauty makes this world of ours 

More lovely than it else would be, 

So are thy (diildren dear to me. 

And when this scene of life is o'er, 
I trust that on the other shore. 
Beyond the river, we shall meet 
And walk together through the street. 
Upon whose jjavements those who tread 
Must tirst l»e mnnbered with the dead. 

The blind shall there receive their sight; 
For in that world " there is no night"— 
No graves to dig — no tears to weep — 
No folding of tiie hands to sleep — 
No broken hearts, nor sense of pain 
To mar the saint's triumi)hant reign. 



BY R. B. MCEACHERN. 151 



A SERENADE. 



The lovely jiirls of Palestine 

P'nftase niy thoughts to-night, 
While Luna lifts her silver sheen 

And laves the world in light. 
The weary l)irds are gone to nest 

Beside the dreamy rills ; 
The winds have rocked the flowers to rest 

I^pou a thousand hills. 

The dew has laid its pearly hand 

Upon the farmer's held, 
To eool the surface of the land. 

And make the harvest yield. 
The winding streams that wear and trace 

Their channels to the main, 
Are sleeping in the soft emhrace 

Of many a verdant plain. 

The golden halo of the day, 

80 gorgeous and sublime. 
Has merged into the pageantry 

Of this delightful time ; 
And though the beauty of the scene 

Is marvelous and bright, 
I'd rather be in Palestine 

With those I love to-night. 

The sun may set, and rise, and set — 

Long years may pass away. 
But where congenial hearts have met 

The memorv loves to stray. 



152 YOUTHFUL DAYS AND OTHKR POEMS, 



(Jood-night, and when the starlets wane, 
And purple morning gleams, 

Be mindful of the sweet refrain 
That came to you in dreams. 



THE TWO ROSES. 



" A sensitive plant in a .iravden grew, 
And the yonna winds led it witli silvery dew ; 
And it opened its fan-like Icines to the light, 
And flosed them beneath the kisses of night." 

— SHF.I.I.F.Y. 

She gave me two roses, two V)eautiful roses, 
All blushing and bathed in the brightness of May, 

And I know that the language their fragrance dis- 
Will not be forgotten for many a day. [closes 

There they are on the stand in an old fashioned vase — 
My innocent, delicate, ))eautiful flowers — 

I>ike a smile of contentment upon the bright face 
Of a valley, whose verdure lies laughing in showers. 

She gave me two roses, the beautiful being 
Whose face I have never been able to view ; 

Rut the pleasure of knowing is better than seeing 
Tlie kindness of one wlio is generous and true. 

Ry to-morrow the tiowers will be withered and shut. 
Like a sensitive plant in a southern land ; 

And the fall of each leaf bring a sigh of regret. 
For she gave them to me with a sisterly hand. 



BY R. B. MCEACHERN. ' 153 



AN EPISTLE TO PARENTS. 



I have written some epistles 

Witli an ordinary pen ; 
But I never planted thistles 

On the ji'raves of other men. 

There is sorrow in defaming, 
And IM rather use my tongue 

In persuading and reclaiming, 
Than discouraging the young. 

Teach your son that he is greener 
Than the greenest of the green, 

And his heart will soon grow meaner 
Than the meanest of the mean. 

Tell him he is not respected — 
Train him as you'd twirl a toy; 

And you'll have your work reflected 
In a good-for-nothing boy. 

On tlie other hand, be gentle ; 

Show him how the Bible plan 
Forms tiie pliysical and nu'ntal 

Culture of a useful man. 

Do not make him self-conceited : 
Ask assistance from above ; 

For your task is not completed 
'Till he learns that " God is love." 



20 



154 



YOUTHFUL DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 



lienrns ]ii8 dutv to liis lUMghbor, 
Helps the poor inter their dead, 

And appreciates tlie h^bor 
Tliat it takes to earn his hread. 

(), young men witliont vocjitions, 
8j)urn tlie ])rodiji:al's excuse; 

Time improved will win you stations 
Honored, by its |)roper use. 

Mother, if you have a daujjhter, 
Te.ich lier things that should lie known 

Or she'll write her name in water 
When her idle hands are j^rown. 

Have her truly educated. 

Then she'll know and understand 
Why so many sad, ill-fated 

'lMionsan<ls bnild upon the sand. 

There is much in early traininji' 
For the future that's to come ; 

And a woman, self-sustaining, 
Seldom marries for a home. 

Marriage is an obligation 
Tliat should never end in strife; 

Eut to wed beneath one's station 
Will insure a wretched life. 



Ignoi'ance and retinement never 

Were intended to unite: 
Coarser minds corrode the clever — 

P.aser metals leave tlieir blisiht. 



BY B. K. MCKACHERN. 155 



Oiici' I know a kind, coiitidiuji' 

(irirl, who gavf Iut heart and hatnl 

To a wealthy man, rcsidiiiii 
111 a far oft" distant land. 

He liad told her of his glory, 
And the iiiaiiner of liis life; 

She believed the polished story, 
And beeanie his lovinii wife. 

Some approved, and others prated, 
While the more iiiditterent smiled; 

But her parents were elated 
At the prospect of their child. 

By her iuuoceiit ilevotion, 
And his fascinating voice, 

Slie was led to cross tlie oceau 
Witli the lover of her choice. 

As the buoyant vessel glided 
O'er the undulating foam. 

Every wave its prow divided 

Passed between her and her home. 

After many days of sailing, 
8he was laudetl at a mart 

Where she spent her life in wailing ; 
For desertion broke her heart. 

.Soon along the cable flying 
Back the waste of waters o'er, 

Cume this message: " I am dying — 
Dying on a foreign shore ; 



156 YOUTHFUL, DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 



"There is no one here to pity, 

And I cannot inulerstand 
Wliat tiiey say in this strange city — 

Meet nie in tlie ' better land.' 

" Tell my little sister, Laura, 
To remain at home with you ; 

Pleasure often ends in sorrow, 
But I die resigned. Adieu! " 

O'er her grave, in English letters. 
Carved upon a marl)ie stone, 

Are these words : " Behold my fetters, 
I was wed and left alone." 

She is sleeping, calmly sleeping, 

In the elysium of the blest. 
And her eyes have ceased from weeping. 

And her spirit is at rest. 

Never leave your gentle parents 
'Till you're bettered by the move ; 

From the virtue of forbearance. 
Learn the constancy of love. 



DRIFTING AWAY 



Hhe is (h'ifting away from her husband and friends, 
And on earth we shall see her no more; 

But the star of the cross o'er her pathway ascends 
To illumine the ()i)posite shore. 



BY R. B. MCEACHERN. 157 

Slie i.s drifting away from the sorrow and strife 

That her nuniy snrvivors must hear; 
tShe is crossing the valley to enter the life 

That the angels so happily share. 

She is drifting away, like a cloud in the west, 

When the sun is declining and red ; 
She is breathing her last — she is sinking to rest — 

She is speechless — alas, she is dead ! 

They are folding the iiands tluit were willing to do; 

They are closing the beautiful eyes ; 
They will l>ury a friend that was loving anil true. 

But they know that the soul never dies. 



FALLEN ASLEEP. 



He is fallen aslee]» in the urnis of tlie Lord, 
Like a child in the lap of its mother ; 

He is gone to inlierit the promised rewjird 
Of a christian, a friend and a l)rother. 

In the lieautiful days of his 2)ilgrimage here 
He WHS like the Samaritan neighbor; 

In his absence, his memory is left to revere, 
And the world is iniprovetl l)y his labor. 

In tlie ])rime of ids life, in tlie noon of his day, 
AVlien tile clouds from Ids zenith were driven. 

Like a halo of glory he floated away 
To the home of liis Father in Heaven. 



158 YOUTHFUL, DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 



INTEMPEKANCE. 



I signed uo pledge, but I have sealed 

My obligation with a tear ; 
And God sliall be my strength and shield, 

'Till I before His throne appear. 

In judgment He will milder be 
Than those who persecute me now : 

And when they speak reprovingly, 
My honor shall protect my vow. 

I seek no friendship to engage 

From those who with me are at strife. 

For I have turned a brighter page 
Within the volume of my life. 

The past has all been l)lotted out; 

But God has let the soars remain 
To nuike me mindful of the route 

I travelled when I lived in vain. 

O, do not touch tlie temjiting bowl. 
But dash away the l)aleful dross : 

It has the power to drag the soul 
Beyond the sbadow of the cross. 

And what can you imagine worse 
Than to become the willing slave 

Of appetite, and bear the curse 

That hangs around tbe drunkard's grave. 



BY K. B. MCEACHERN. 159 

The puiii.sliinent of Cain was light 
Compared with Avhat your own shall be, 

If you are banished from the siyht 
Of Heaven, in eternity. 

Then do not drink the .social jilass 

To please the faney of a friend : 
It is an evil — let it i)ass, 

And you'll Ite l)etter in the end. 

The riches of a man can't buy 

His body from the sepulchre. 
We never ^et too poor to die, 

Nor live too sanctitied to err. 

<), think of those whose daily bread 

Depends upon your own success ; 
Or it may soon be sadly said, 

He died and left them coinfortless. 

You take a drum, and never think 

How rapidly the habit grows, 
'Till second nature learns to drink, 

And bosom friends hecome your foes. 

You cannot alienate tiie hearts 

Of others, to reclaim at will ; 
And when the tide against you starts, 

The world Mill i)ush you down the hill. 

Reform, before it is too late. 

Or you may lose your self-cojitrol. 
And die among the desolate. 

Without a pardon for your soul. 



160 YOUTHFUL, DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 



And if you had to l)ear it all, 
Aud justly .suffer for the shame, 

The helpless would Dot have to fall 

With you, nor wear a druidvard's uauie 

But when you make your reason reel 
By doing what you could prevent, 

Your heart becomes too hard to feel 
For others who are innocent 

You punish those you siiouldprotect, 
And scorn the guardians of your youth, 

Because you lose your self respect, 
And will not listen to the truth. 

Reprove the wise and they will hear, 
And thank you for it 'till they die; 

Reprove the foolish and they'll jeer, 
And answer with a fool's reply. 

I knew a man who married young. 
And started out to win a name ; 

And there was wisdom in his tongue. 
And he was on the road to fame. 

He clambered up the rocky steep, 
But often he was sorely tried ; 

He toiled while others were asleep. 
And kept his partner by his side. 

We met again, m after years. 
And when I recognized his voice. 

He said : " The future has no fears 
For those who make a happy choice. 



BY R. B. MCEACHERN. 161 



"My life has heeu a temperate oue, 

Autl shall contiuue so to he, 
Uutil my nu-e oii earth is run, 

And (leatli lias set my spirit free." 

O, who will strive to emulate 
The good ('xami)le he has given '.' 

Reform — there's danger if you wait, 
And you may lose the joys of Heaven. 



SONG OF THE ODD FELLOWS. 



Ijet us build another altar 

Where the old one proudly stood, 
To encoiu'age those who falter, 

For eneouragement is good. 
Rocks that others have remanded 

To the (juarry, nn\y be used. 
If we labor double-handed 

And our work is not abused. 

There ai'e many whose existeiu*e 

On oui' charity depends ; 
Not for pliysical assistance, 

But for true and faithful friends ; 
And as we are only passing 

On, as pilgrims to the grave. 
Let us strive to be amassing 

Something that we all can save. 

Many proverbs have been given — 
Many sayings g(j the round ; 



•21 



162 YOUTHFUL DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 



But the golden rule of Heaveu 
Is the best tliat may he found. 

" Do ye also to another 
As you'd have him do to you," 

And regard him as a brother 
'Till he ])roves himself untrue. 

Life lias many bitter crosses, 

And they fill our hearts with pain 
But we know that temporal losses 

Often bring eternal gain. 
There is nothing unrewarded, 

And 'tis not for us to say 
Who shall find his name recorded 

Brightest at tlu^ judgment day. 



AVE KNOW THEE. 



We know thee as thou art, 
And prize thee for thy worth. 

Because thou hast as pure a heart 
As ever l)eat on earth. 

We miss thee in our sphere, 
As sunshine fr.om the burn ; 

And tenderly we touch the tear 
That wells for thy return. 

We miss thee from thy hall, 
As some sweet singing l)ird : 

Come back, dear friend, and tell us a) 
That thou hast seen and heard. 



BY R. B. MCEACHERN. 163 



The winter is too cold 

For thee to loiigei' roam : " 
Thou hast a fatlier, growing old, 

Who misses thee at home. 

And Freddie's heart is sad, 
And Laura sighs all day ; 

And Mary's song is never glad, 
Because thou art away. 

Thy brother would rejoice 

To look upon thy face ; 
And gladly would we hear thy V(nce 

In its accustomed i)lace. 

Thy cedars in the grove. 
Thy vases anil thy flowers, 

Recall thy memory, with the love 
Of many pleasant hours. 

And oft at eventide 

We con them (j'er and o'er ; 
And bless thee for the brightest side 

Of life, in days of yore. 

Let Weatherford be glad. 

And Palo Pinto smile ; 
But don't forget that we are sad, 

Who miss thee all the while. 

And when the day is dusk 

Upon the dewy lea, 
Be mindful of thy friends at Rusk, 

For they rememlier thee. 



164 YOUTHFUL. DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 



The flowers are all at rest, 
The stars renew their ligl^t. 

The moon is sinking in the west — 
Good uight, sweet friend, good night! 



A VETERAN OF THE CROSS. 



His natural voice is growing wealt. 

And when I pass him on the street 
It makes me sad to hear him s))eak, 

Because I know he soon shall meet 
No longer with the loving hearts 

Whose tenderness to him is './iven : 
But when the good old man de])arts 

We'll have another friend in Heaven. 

Not burdened with a weight of years. 

Nor toiling on in mortal strire; 
But free from sorrow, pain and tears, 

And gifted with eternal life. 
Thus when T press his wrinkled hand, 

And hear the pilgrim speak of home, 
I know there is a brighter lant?, 

Where death and parting never come. 

His step is feeble, but his mind 

Is clearer than a cloudless day ; 
And he is willing and resigned. 

And ready to be called away. 
Oh, what is earth, with all its dross 

Of sordid wealth and tempoial joy. 
Compared with Heaven and the cross 

That yields a crown without alloy. 



BY R. B. MCEACHERN. 165 



WAITING. 



I am waiting for Jiiiiinie tu cuine, 
And I know not how long it will be ; 

But the angels that wafted him home 
May he patiently waiting for me. 

In hi(^ life he wa:^ loving and kind, 
And in Heaven methinkf^ he will .say: 

" I've a brother on earth who i.s blind, 
iSend an angel to show him the way." 

And the Father will grant his recjuest 
For the sake of His son, Who was slain 

That the weary might enter the rest 
Of the righteous, in glory to reign. 

When the beautiful messenger flies 
On the wings of the morning to me. 

From his radiant home in the skies. 
He will bear me, dear brother, to thee. 

And the portals behind me will close 
As I stand with astonishment dujub. 

In the sanctified i)resenee of those 
Who are waiting for others to come. 

I shall hear the refrain of the choirs, 
And be clothed with a garment of white, 

While the song of redemption inspires 
All my soul with ecstatic delight. 

And I'll treasure the tone and the time, 
And rememlwr the pitch of the bars 



166 YOUTHFUL DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 

'Till the hanuuny ^raiul und suV)lime 
Is sustained by a chctrus of stars. 

Then I'll wander along the bviiflit shores 
Of tiiat V)eautiful river above, 

'Till the Savior my vision restores, 
And my heart is renewed by His love. 

I shall look on the features of those 
Who have led me so tenderly here ; 

And forget that I ever had toes 

Who could smile at the fall of a tear. 

Thus, I'm waiting for Jimmie to come, 
And I know not how long it will be ; 

But the angels that wafted him home 
May be patiently waiting for me. 

Oh, the riches of heavenly graee — 
What an ocean witlKHit an alloy ! 

I shall rise from the icy embrace 
Of the grave, to a mansion of joy. 



ODE TO MY FIRST MUSIC TEACHEK. 



Song of other days around me, 

Melancholy be thy theme ; 
For the happy spell that l)ouiid tliee 

Vanished like a pleasant dream : 
Yet each heart receives its portion — 

Grief is n(jt unknown to all. 
And the silent, sad emotion 

Is delightful to recall. 



BY R. B. MCEACHERN. ]Cu 

Wisdom, like a luijtfhtyoeeau, 

Flowing- from its fountain warm, 
Purities eaeli childish notion 

Wliieh in early age we form ; 
For experience is given 

To the learned and the wise ; 
And its origin is Heaven, 

And its merit never dies. 

(leutle zei)liyrs o'er me stealing. 
Fan the Hame witliin my heart; 

And its light is still revealing- 
All that's lovely to impart. 

Though the world is dark around me, 
And my prospects are hut few, 

Yet thy friendly eye hath found me. 
And thy heart hath proved as true. 

Memory, like the ivy clinging 

'Round the wreck of some rude waste, 
Broods where once SAveet hirds were singing, 

But tJieir forms have been misplaced : 
Vet thy friendshi]), freely given. 

From a heart so true and kind. 
Falls like genial showers from Heaven 

In the desert of jny mind. 

When some otiier heart confessing 

Shall with fervency adore. 
Wilt thou make its love a blessing — 

Wilt thou love him more and more? 
Yes, tlKui'lt l)e to him the treasure 

Thou hast ever been to me ; 
Thou wilt fill his cup with pleasure, 

And in jov remember me. 



168 YOUTHFUL DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 

Deep is every true devotion. 

Beep is love wlien truly found ; 
TJke the waters of tlie ocean 

Are its depths, and who shall sound ? 
Birdling of the North, it grieves me 

From thy presence to remain ; 
But thy faithfulness relieves me. 

And I trust we'll meet again. 



THE SWEET MUSICIAN IS NO MORE. 



The sweet musician is no more ! 

His closing cadence has been made ; 
And death has flung its dampers o'er 

The instruments on which he played. 

Oh ! take away tlie dear guitar, 

Whose chords have lost a skillful hand 

There's rest beyond the double bar, 
And music in a brighter land. 

His violin and flute may be 
By other lips and fingers tried ; 

But none shall make the melody 
His mother loved, before he died. 

His sad piano may remain 

UntoucJied for many months to come; 
But those who die shall live again. 

And (}od has onlv called him home. 



BY B. B. MCEACHEBN. 169 



A RAMBLE. 



One evening as I mused alone 
Between two gently flowing streams, 

I heard a melancholy tone 
Ascending from the land of dreams. 

It said : " Young man, where wandef 'st thou, 

So solitary and so shy ? 
Go, give thy soul to Heaven now, 

For 'tis an awful thing to die." 

The winds, the deep-toned echoe's shrine 

With requiems awhile did vie. 
Still sighing through the distant pine, 

"It is an awful thing to die." 

I asked the flowers that gently fold 
With dew drops from the balmy sky ; 

And deep and vast their numbers told, 
" It is an awful thing to die." 

A mantled minstrel with his rod 

T asked, as he was passing by. 
" To those," said he, " who worship God, 

It is a pleasant tning to die." 

" Oh, consolation of the blest ! " 
Exclaimed the minstrel, coming near, 

"I know there is an endless rest 
For those who have to suffer. here." 

22 



170 YOUTHFUIi DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 

And since that time I've looked upon 
Tlie scene of deatli witli brigliter eye ; 

For when the sands of life are run, 
My body, not my soul, shall die. 

" But say," impatiently I cried, 

" Oh, say, what brought thee to this place? " 
He paused awhile, and then replied : 

" I am the last of all my race ; 

" But sit thee down, and I will tell 

Thee all the charms of solitude ; 
And naught save the voluptuous swell 

Of nature's music shall intrude." 

We sat upon a lonely rock. 

Where love heard friendship's earliest vow ; 
Can time's procrastinating shock 

Obliterate those memories now ? 

Ah ! no; for friendship bathed in tears. 

Is too immortal and too free 
To perish with the lapse of years — 

'Twill live e'en in eternity. 

" Be calm, for what is past is lost," 
The minstrel said, with tearful eyes. 

" We never learn to count the cost 
'Till our experience makes us wise. 

"The memory of the past may fade. 

And fall into ol)scurity, 
But when the final debt is paid 

I'll meet thee in thy purity. 



BY R. B. MCEACHERN. 171 



" Toil ou, and try to make the best 
Of what has been revealed to-day ; 

And keep within thy youthful l)reast 
The faith that never fades away." 



THE PLACE WHERE ANNA USED TO PLAY. 



The place Avhere Anna used to play 

Was shaded from the suu, 
With only here and there a ray 

That through the jessamine 
So softly cr^pt, and lightly fell 

Upon her and her toys — 
She seemed to me a fairy Leue 

And queen of earthly joys. 

Her innocent, expressive face 

Was lit up by that mild, 
Enhancing charm of artless grace 

That crowns a lovely child : 
And oft returning home at eve. 

Before I take my rest, 
I pray that she may never grieve, 

Nor be in mind distressed. 

The vine blooms on from year to year, 

The place is little changed ; 
But tenderness is in the tear 

That starts for the estranged. 
Our youth is like a passing cloud — 

A shadow on the lawn — 
And many a head with age is bowed 

Before we know 'tis gone. 



172 YOUTHFUL DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 



BY-GONE HOURS. 



Though the scenes of my childhood are fadiug away, 

Like a torch which the darkness has rendered ob- 
scure, 
Still a glimmering light from the lamp of decay 

Sheds a beautiful lustre, fraternal and pure, 
O'er the days of the past, and the friends of my youth, 

And the foliage shading the fountain so clear. 
Where the deep, j^laintive strains of unspeakable truth 

Were undoubted by all, but such friendship is rare. 

Yet the rarest is best, if the wisest be true. 

For the honest and humble will never depart ; 
And the flowers of friendship will bathe in the aew 

They exhale from the fountain of every true heart : 
And the sentiment lives when the echo is dead. 

Whose varying cadence is sweet to the ear ; 
And the face may be known when its beauty has fled. 

And the eye may see clear through a penitent tear. 

Thus the mind with its mysteries is deep and obscure. 

For its homage is paid to the author of light; 
But we know of a tree when its fruit is made pure. 

As we point out a star when its lustre is bright. 
O, my life, what an ocean ! 'Tis boundless and vast 

As the incomprehensible planets that fly ; 
And my form is made mortal, with clay to be classed. 

But the incarnate essence shall live when I die. 



BY R. B. MCEACHERN. 173 



A DREAM. 



A dark cloud, in the westeru horizon, 
Obscured the setting of tlie golden sun, 

And silent night her sable curtains sj^read 
Around the living and above the dead. 

The air was heavy, and the rumbling sound 
Of distant thunder jarred the solid ground. 

Much wearied with my journey, and depressed 
From loss of sleep, I laid me down to rest 
Upon the grass, beside a little stream. 
And suddenly there fell a vivid gleam 
Of radiant light around me as I lay ; 
And everything appeared as clear as day. 

I saw a solitary mountain pine 

Waving with reverence to a tender vine 

That flourished in a verdant vale below. 

The leafy creeper seemed at once to know 

And understand the timely proffered aid 

Of that lone tree, and sought its friendly shade. 

" Thou art my dear companion," said the pine. 
" Yes; until deatli," replied the wedded vine: 
But then the scene assumed a different form — 
I saw the lightning, and I heard the storm. 
The tree was rooted up and cast aside ; 
The vine trailed out upon the sand and died. 

The solemn scene assumed another form ; 

And while the tears upon my cheeks were warm, 

I looked again, and lo ! the fallen pine 

Had been replaced ; around it hung the vine ; . 

And at its base, upon the dewy sod, 

In violet letters, bloomed the name of God. 



174 YOUTHFUL DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 



THE VACANT HOUR. 



What is to be will be ; 

And though my plans deran^^e, 
The future may reveal to nie 

The wisdom of this change. 

I cannot see it now — 

I only wish I could ; 
And, candidly, I wonder how 

'Twill end in any good. 

'Tis useless to contend 

With many, or with one ; 
For I've not lost a single friend 

By all that has been done. 

My feelings ill accord 

With such a novel jjlan ; 
But if I merit the reward, 

I'll bear it like a man. 

The vacancy has brought 
Some sorrow, but it seems 

That there is still a kindred thought 
To blend the two extremes. 

There is no vacant hour 
In that bright world above ; 

Nor is there any fading flower 
To die o'er those we love. 

There is no vacant hour : 
The lesson has been said, 



BY R. B. MCEACHERN. 175 

And memory leaves a goldeu shower 
Of blessings ou thy head. 

There is no vacant hour, 

Nor anything that mars 
The songs of tliat celestial bower, 

So fair, among the stars. 

There is no vacancy. 

An all pervading power 
Is mirrorijd in immensity, 

And fills each vacant hour. 

The shadow of His wing 

Is lightly o'er me laid ; 
And I am happiest while I sing 

Of joys that never fade. 

Our disappointments here 

Are given as a test, 
To prove us for a higher sphere, 

And may be for the best. 

For now we darkly see 

As through a clouded lens, 
But in the bright futurity 

We'll know who were our friends. 

We are not left to grope 

Through life without a guide ; 
And faith, the substance of our hope. 

Shines on the other side. 

How brilliantly it glows 

O'er mountain, hill and plain, 
To cheer the drooping he(irts of those 

Who have not lived in vain. 



176 YOUTHFUL, DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 

We think of it by day, 

And in tiie silent night; 
It points us to tlie living way 

That leads to life and light. 

Oh, how can mortals fall 
While there is such a power ? 

'Tis ever iiresent with us all — 
Life has no vacant hour. 



CHANGE. 



The days are passing into weeks, 

The weeks are gliding into years. 
And there is not a voice that speaks 

More palpably to our fears 
Than the reality of change. 

Oh ! are we living unprepared, 
Like soldiers in the stormy range 

Of batteries, by the foe ensnared ? 

The words we speak, however light. 

Are calculated to increase 
The happiness, or cast a blight 

Upon the innocence and peace 
Of those who never wilfully 

Designed that we should suffer aught 
To gratify their vanity, 

But who can tell the drift of thought? 



BY R. B. MCEACHERN. IT, 



Who realizes as his own 

The feelings of his dearest friend ? 
The law that harmonizes tone 

Seems too consecutive to blend. 
Alas! how sad, and yet how true 

It is, that selfishness beclouds 
The microscope through which we view 

Our neighbors, tolling on for shrouds. 



TO MAMIE. 



She is only twelve years old— 

A woman in her ways, 
And merits more than I have told, 

Or written in her praise. 

She's gentle and refined ; 

And what to me appears 
As so remarkable, her mind 

Is far beyond her years. 

She reads with graceful ease. 
And modulates her voice 

In such a manner as to please 
The critical and choice. 

She shrinks from vain display. 

And studies to acquire 
Her knowledge in a modest way. 
That shows a pure desire. 
23 



YOUTHFUL DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 

Thus, wheu the head is right. 

The heart is sure to be 
Congenial to its liappy pliglit, 

And both in one agree. 

We cultivate the mind. 

But if it is not stored 
With precepts of a proper kind, 

Our wisdom is ignored. 

And how are we to know. 

Unless it is explained 
By those who are prejiared to show 

How others should be trained. 

Too many wish to wait 

Until the times improve. 
And thousands say they'll educate, 

But never make the move. 

They do not seem to look 

Beyond their present gain ; 
And think the purchase of a book 

Is money spent in vain. 

But when they set at large 
The families which they raise 

In ignorance, they will hear the charge 
Of blame, instead of praise. 

For who will rise to bless 

The negligence of youth. 
While there is language to express 

Regret, and speak the truth. 



BY R. B. MCEACHERN. 179 

Upon the other hand 

The wisdom of the wise 
Enables them to take their stand, 

Where merit wins tlie jirize. 

The prestige of a name 

Is useful to commend ; 
But we must work for what we claim, 

Or lose it in the end. 

'Tis better far to give 

Advantage than to take ; 
For by their honest means they live. 

Who toil for what they make^. 

Go, join the studious throng. 

In order to avoid 
The shadows, ere they grow too long 

For youth, to be employed, 

A reasonable length 

Of time is set apart 
To give the mind and body strength, 

And cultivate the lieart. 

But if we will not see. 

And still refuse to learn, 
The golden opportunity 

Will pass, and not return 



180 YOUTHFUL DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 



A SERMON IN VERSE. 



The following poem was suggested while listening to a sermon re- 
cently delivered by Rev. J". W. Johnson, pastor of the Methodist 
Church at this place. The seventh verse of the LVII. Psalm was 
read in our hearing as a sweet echo from the harp of Zion's Shep- 
herd King: "My heart is fixed, O God, ray heart is fixed : I will 
sing and give praise." 

My heart is fixed on Thee, 

For during all my days 
Thy watchful eyes were over me ; 

And now I'll sing Thy praise. 
Take all my idols down 

Before they turn to dross, 
For I shall never wear a crown 

Unless I bear the cross. 



My heart is fixed on Thee, 

And why should I repine 
While life and immortality 

Upon my pathway shine? 
O ! teach me how to prove 

My gratitude, with all, 
And let me feel Thy earnest love. 

And I shall never fall. 

My heart is fixed on Thee, 

And when the silver chord 
Of life is severed, I shall be 

Prepared for my reward. 
My sorrow may be great. 

My persecution sore, 
But when I reach that righteous state. 

My soul shall sigh no more. 



BY R. B. MCEACHERN. 181 

My heart is fixed, O God, 

My heart is fixed on Tliee ; 
Aud when I sleep beneath tlie sod, 

Thou wilt remember me. 
Look downward from Thy throne, 

And hear my feeble call : 
I have no merit of my own, 

"But Christ is all in all." 

Ye who have earthly ties 

That worldly love endears, 
Who bury them with streaming eyes, 

And wash their graves in tears, 
Look up to God for aid, 

Aud do not put your trust 
In things created but to fade 

And mock you with their dust. 

The vanity of dress 

And fashions of the day 
Are serving pride to bring distress ; 

And argue as we may, 
The truth must be 

Tho' driven to the post, 
The expectation of the proud 

Is but an empty boast. 

Oh ! Infancy is fair. 

And hapi^y childhood sweet ; 
But there is many a secret snare 

For poor, unguarded feet. 
The poverty of jiurse 

May cause our hearts to feel. 
But poverty of soul is worse 

Than language can reveal. 



182 YOUTHFUL DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 

Our wealth may be regained; 

Our fortunes all renewed ; 
But when a man with crime is stained 

His spirit is subdued. 
Be watchful, for you know 

That evil leads to shame ; 
The wheat and tares together grow. 

But they are not the same. 

The thistle's thorny leaves 

May wave above tlie grain ; 
But God shall bind them into sheaves 

And burn them on the plain ; 
And then He'll gather in 

His harvest with a song, 
As jewels ransomed from the sin 

That we have mourned so long. 

There is a better time. 

There is a brighter day 
Beyond this ever changing clime. 

And Christ has led tlie way. 
There we shall be at peace — 

O, cheer each other on 
'Till angels bring the sweet release, 

For life will soon be gone. 

Oh ! wayward one, return 

And seek tliy Father's grace, 
Before tliy vital lamp sliall burn 

Too dim lo see His face. 
Oh, sorrowful and sad, 

Afflicted and depraved, 
Return and make the Heavens glad 

For one more spirit saved. 



BY R, B. MCEACHERN. 183 

Remember all the prayers 

That pious lips have prayed, 
To will thee from the wildest snares 

The hiring world has laid : 
Aud with thyself commune, 

And in thy heart repent; 
For often to tlie brightest noon 

The darkest clouds are sent. 

Rusk, 1S77, 



TO AN OLD SCHOOL-MATE. 



My dear old school-mate, Robert Jones, 

How do you pass your time 
Among the tones and semi-tones, 

Without a little rhyme? 
How often do you go to spend 

Your evenings after tea 
With that most prepossessing friend 

You introduced to me? 

I never shall forget the few 

Delightful moments there ; 
Her welcome and her fond adieu 

Were fervid as a prayer. 
I sent you in, and stood as guard 

To wait your own behest ; 
She came to meet you in the yard, 

Aud, Rob — you know the rest. 

But while I sing of seeing girls. 
The memory of the blind 



184 YOUTHFUIi DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 

Is like a casket full of pearls 

All precious aud refiued. 
In darkuess, 'neatli the sunny skies, 

They feel their night of years ; 
But angels view their sightless eyes. 

And count their tender tears. 

The grain we sow must lie concealed 

Within the gloomy earth 
Until it gathers strength to yield, 

Before we know its worth. 
And thus it is with all the blind. 

Who earnestly unite 
In helping to improve mankind, 

As those who have their sight. 

We cannot fold our hands to rest. 

For there is work to do ; 
And labor never shirks the test. 

When merit makes it true. 
Then let us strive with one accord 

Our usefulness to prove ; 
Aud we shall reap the great reward 

That's promised from above. 

The rocks, without the aid of roots. 

In solid ledges grow. 
And God has taught the browsing brutes 

Their proper food to know. 
And shall ire fail to understand. 

And thus neglect the power 
Of knowledge, at our own command. 

Who need it every hour ? 

Oh ! no, but rather let us say 
We'll stem misfortune's tide. 



BY R, B. MCEACHERN. 185 



And if we have to feel our way 
We'll find the better side. 

And when we reach the haven fair, 
This dark and dreary night 

Sliall melt into tlie golden glare 
Of God's eternal liglit. 

The roses and the lilies bloom 

For brighter eyes than ours ; 
But we enjoy the sweet perfume 

Of all the fragrant flowers. 
The beauty of external tilings 

Is not to us unfurled, 
Because the angels keep their wings 

Between us and the world. 

But oh ! the memory of mind, 

That most enduring prize, 
Is kindly given to the blind. 

Instead of seeing eyes. 
And though we often have to grope, 

And oft our footing miss. 
We lose our sorrow in the hope 

Of future happiness. 

Rusk, February 17, 1878. 



OUR PIC-NIC. 



Out of the school room and out of the town, 
Out from the houses, so sunny and brown ; 
Off with a shout, on a frolicsome freak — 
Ho ! for the pic-nic at Little Beans creek. 
24 



186 YOUTHFUL BAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 

Out of the din and the dust of the streets, 
Seeking our pleasure in sliady retreats ; 
Gone for a day, and perhaps for a week. 
Ho ! for tlie pic-nic at Little Beans creek. 

Now in a valley, and now on a hill. 
Rapidly nearing the rickety mill ; 
Calling and causing the echoes to speak — 
Ho ! for the pic-nic at Little Beans creek. 

Harriett and Mary, and Lillie and Bell, 
Kate and Viola, and Emma as well, 
Tennie and TI >]lie, and Bailie so true, 
Laughing with Linnie and singing with Sue. 

Out of the town and away from the noise, 
Loving each other and teasing the hoys ; 
Smiling and innocent, gentle and meek — 
Ho ! for the pic-nic at Little Beans creek. 

And when life's duties have called us away 
Far from the happy young hearts of to-day. 
When and wherever our pleasure we seek. 
Let us be mindful of Little Beans creek. 

Father above us, on Thee we depend : 
Life is uncertain, and when it shall end. 
Gather us home from each valley and peak — 
Save the assembly at Little Beans creek. 

Broad is the ocean o'er which we must sail. 
Weak are our vessels to weather the gale ; 
Thousands before us have wrecked on the bar ; 
Help us and keej) us from drifting too far. 



BY B. B. MCEACHEBN. 187 



SERENADE. 



When the fleecj" clouds are drawn around 

The goklen gate of light, 
And sunset's silence reigns profound 

Beneath the shades of night ; 
Then liUna with her guardian power 

And silver rays unfurled, 
And amber from the evening hour 

Will robe the rayless world. 

Then wonder not, though I aspire 

Beneath this starry dome 
To pause and strike the living lyre, 

At midnight, near thy home ; 
For moonbeams wander to and fro, 

Refulgent and sublime, 
Serenading softly as they go 

The maids of every clime. 

At midnight, When the blue waves roll 

Athwart the boundless deep, 
And Morpheus wraps each kindred soul 

In dreams of balmy sleep, 
I'll wander to thy lonely bower. 

When stars are shining bright, 
And sing, and charm the sacred hour 

Of melancholy night. 



188 YOUTHFUL DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 



HE IS GONE. 



He is gone to the land of the beautiful dead, 
And I love them wherever they sleep ; 

On a pillow of clay he is resting his head 
While his friends and his relatives weep. 

He is gone to tlie land of the beautiful dead, 

To the city of silence and rest ; 
And I look on him now since his spirit has fled, 

As an angel eternally blest. 

He is gone to the land of the beautiful dead,. 

Where the prophets aud martyrs repose : 
Yea, the silver chord broke like a delicate thread, 

And he fell as the leaf of a rose. 

He is gone to the land of the beautiful dead. 
And his absence has left us in tears ; 

At the foot of the cross they have made him a bed, 
Aud he'll sleep till his Master appears. 

Then he'll rise from the land of the beautiful dead. 

And ascend to his home in the sky. 
To the Fountain of Life, for the Savior hath said, 

" He that drinketh thereof shall not die." 



BY B. B. MCEACHERN. 189 



SITTING IN DARKNESS. 



Sitting in dari^ness, and sighing for light, 
Sorrowing over the lof^s of my sight. 
Sad is the thouglit and a desolate one — 
Feeling its warmth without seeing the sun. 
Oh ! for the gleam of a star in its jilace ; 
Oh ! for a glance at one innocent face ; 
Oh ! for a smile or a look that is kind — 
Something to gladden the eyes of the blind. 

Spring has its verdure, and summer its breath, 
Autumn its harvest, and winter its death ; 
Day has its radiance, night has its gloom, 
Life has its pilgrimage, tears and its tomb ; 
And as we grope to the burial spot, 
Savior, O, lead us " by ways we know not " 
Down to the gate of the valley of shade — 
Down in the dust where our fathers are laid. 

Earth has its mountains, and rivers, and seas, 
Deserts and caverns, and forests of trees. 
Craters of lava and shadowy floods, 
Cold as the ice on the Lake of the Woods ; 
Beautiful rainbows adorning the clouds, 
Mornings of fresh n ess and evenings with shrouds, 
Dew-drops that shatter the leaves of the rose, 
Sunset and twilight, and then the repose. 



190 YOUTHFUIi DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 



STANZAS TO 



Though T sing the sad song of devotion, 

And wliisper of days tJiat liave passed, 
S-till I feel, with tlie deejiest emotion, 

That thou wilt be true to the last : 
For the life boat of love is still waiting 

Uiion the broad ocean of time, 
And the zephyrs are softly relating 

Their humble devotions in rhyme. 

Though the friends of my youth have forsaken, 

And doubted the truth of my heart. 
Still I feel that I am not mistaken 

In thee, for thou wilt not dej^art. 
May the ways of the world not deceive thee. 

Nor win thee away from the blest ; 
Nor may anything sorrowful grieve thee, 

Or cause thee to e'er be distrest. 

As the sands of the houx'-glass number 

The moments of time as they fly. 
So the friendship we cherish must slumber. 

And wake for a season, then die. 
Yet thy angel-like voice shall cheer me 

Wherever my lot may be cast ; 
And my prayers, tho' another be near thee. 

Will kindly revert to the past. 



bV R. B, MCEACHERN. ]91 



JULIA. 



Thou generous maid, within whose breast 
No rankling thorn may ever grow, 

Long be thy visions ever blest. 
Long may thy prospects brightening glow. 

Young actress in this world of strife, 

Look forward to a future day. 
For every breath you breathe is life 

Inhaled — but soon to i^ass away. 

Thy life is like the twilight hour, 
When nature's balmy dews are shed, 

Or like a timid little flower 
That blushes on its rosy bed. 

Thy generous heart will claim a sigh 
From those who seldom shed a tear ; 

But who can view, with sightless eye. 
Though thou wert ever lingering near ? 

Thy gentle voice, with winning tone, 
Cau soothe me when I look in vain ; 

And though in silence still I moan 
To see thee, yet I must refrain. 

Be thankful for the power of love. 

Be generous to a faithful friend, 
Bg harmless as a living dove. 

And none will ever thee offend. 



192 YOUTHFUIi DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 

Be persevering and upright, 
For time to tliee's a talent given, 

Wliicli, if inijiroved, will shine more bright 
Than stars that gem the lofty heaven. 

My youthful friend, remember thou 

That vanity is vain and void, 
Which constitutes a worldly vow 

That is, alas ! too soon destroyed. 

Let thy criterion be known 
As obvious as wisdom's ways. 

For latent smiles are never shown, 
And flatt'ring lips make uselesf praise. 

Regard the feelings of a friend 
As dear as you regard your own ; 

For octave should with octave blend, 
And harmonize with every tone. 

But see, the hour of noon has passed — 
My social song must shortly end : 

Be persevering to the last, 
Regarding wisdom as your friend. 

The sun is kneeling from his throne 
To nestle on the ocean's breast. 

And holy calm from zone to zone 
Proclaims the hour of sacred rest. 



BY R. B. MCEACHERN. 193 



SONG FROM HOME. 



I long to dwell within the grot 
That heard my first and childish song, 

And feel that I am on the spot 
From which I have been absent long. 

The little brook that murmured near 
The old white hall in which we dwelt, 

I still remember with a tear. 
And feel for hearts that never felt. 

Yon same bright sun is setting now 
That rose upon the castle's dome ; 

Its lingering rays still kiss the brow 
Of one who wanders far from home. 

Then string the light guitar again 
And sing, for I am doomed to roam — 

Touch light the silver chord and strain, 
I only know I am from home. 



STANZAS TO MINO. 



Oh ! shall I hear that warbling voice ? 

Sweet Mino, string thy lute again. 
But if it be not of thy choice 

To sing, I know thou canst refrain. 
25 



194 YOUTHFUL DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 

To contemplate those by-gone hours, 
So free from enmity and strife, 

Is but to pluck the timid flowers 
Which memory plants in early life. 

Sweet Mino, ere the flight of time 
Had numbered five and ten for thee, 

I journeyed to a distant clime, 
And faded from thy memory. 

So dies the echo on the blast 

Whose sound was soothing to the ear ; 

So fades the memory of the past. 
Obliterated by a tear. 

Yet, shall I hear that warbling voice ? 

Sweet Mino, string thy lute again. 
But if it be not of thy choice 

To sing, I know thou canst refrain. 



SALLIE OF SEGUIN. 



Fancy woke, while memory lingered. 

And I heard thy voice again ; 
For the dextrous hand that fingered 

Knew the magic of that strain ; 
And I thought as I was sleeping 

Dreams my vision did restore. 
And I saw an angel weeping — 

Standing by the open door. 



BY R. B. MCEACHERN. 195 

Then a sympathetic quaking 

Filled the soft, stirrounding air, 
And my heavy heart was breaking 

With the anguish of despair ; 
But the glorious vision faded 

Like a gorgeous sunset sky. 
And tlie hope my spirit shaded 

Breathed a melancholy sigli. 

Oh ! if I could ever only 

Hope to ^hare an angel's bliss, 
Tlien my soul would not be lonely 

With the cares of worlds like this ; 
For immaculate devotion 

Has unveiled celestial eyes. 
And their tender, deep emotion 

Cannot — no, it never dies. 

When the tapers have been lighted 

In the evening of the day. 
And the Psalm has been recited, 

And you all kneel down to pray ; 
When the family with contrition 

Shall have asked most fervently 
For a blessing, then petition 

For thyself— and think of me. 



196 YOUTHFUL DAYS AND OTHEK POEMS, 



WRITTEN IN NEW ORLEANS. 



The steamer rocks beside the quay, 

The furnace fires are burning, 
And I sliall soon be on ray way 

Toward my home returning ; 
But ere I step witli weary feet 

Aboard the " Floating Fairy," 
I'll bless the Kate of Julia street. 

And pledge a health to Mary. 

The gratitude that I express 

For sympathy extended. 
Is mingled with a consciousness 

That I have been befriended ; 
And as the oak its age defines 

By circles yearly given. 
So may our hearts become the shrines 

Of friendship worthy Heaven. 



WRITTEN FOR A LADY'S ALBUM. 



Sweet album, on thy spotless page, 
And for thy owner's sake, receive 

These mem'ries of a by-gone age. 
For they are true : read and believe. 



BY R. B. MCEACHERN. 197 

The human mind may comprehend 
The cause of discord and of strife ; 

But not the origin, nor end, 
Of immortality and life. 

If love is only a desire, 

Its frailty and simplicity 
Will shrink before the matchless ire 

Of justice and eternity. 

But if, in all sincerity. 

The fervent soul on faith relies. 
Then love with all its purity 

Will bless the noble and the wise. 

The cold, indifferent world may scorn. 
And future years may yet disclose 

To thee the point of many a thorn 
That nestles now beneath the rose. 



KATIE T- 



As helpless thou didst enter in 

To thy existence, weeping here. 
So live and keep thy heart from sin, 

That those who know and love thee dear 
May bless the day that gave thee birth ; 

And bless thy faithful parents too. 
And thank the Lord of heaven and earth 

For one so useful and so true. 



198 YOUTHFUL DAYS AND OTHER POEMS, 

The sun that shines upon thy head 

Is shining on thy father's grave ; 
And thus the living and the dead, 

Are only parted by a wave 
Of radiant light that forms a link 

Between the future and the past ; 
And soon beyond the shady brink 

Of Jordon ye shall meet at last. 

Remembering all that thou hast done. 

And all that yet remains to be 
Accomplished ere thy race is run, 

Must form a record true to thee. 
O, look at life in every phase. 

And always keep your reason bright, 
For there are many, many ways. 

But only one of these is right. 

ACROSTIC. 

May all your brightest hopes be realized 

In everything you undertake to do, 

So that the angels, being well advised. 

Shall place your name among the good and true. 

Keep near the center of " ihe narrow way," 
As thorns are growing upon either hand : 
Thy life is pure, and like a cloudless day, 
Evolving glimpses of " the better laud." 



(3^:^ FINIS. 



